


Hereafter

by vesper_house



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Movies), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Bruce, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bonding, Crime Fighting, Established Relationship, I add tags as I go so be prepared for surprises, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Clark, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:18:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6999325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper_house/pseuds/vesper_house
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of supers and bats and what happens when they love each other very, very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I simply love the idea of teeny weeny superbats. That's it, that's all there is! Could be a continuation of my [Before Dawn](http://archiveofourown.org/series/412906) series if you squint hard enough and add ABO dynamics. 
> 
> Multiple chapters will follow. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Shoutout to [Albi](http://p0werbottomsuperman.tumblr.com/) who's already the biggest fan of this work, I just know this to be true ;>

It was not a revelation nor a lightning strike. He did not woke up one day with that thought in mind. It has spread organically, naturally, rooted too deep in his heart and his bones to get noticed instantly. _Everyone wants to have children, especially omegas,_ he heard. _One day you’ll find the right mate and start a family; it’s biology, you can’t fight it; omegas go a little crazy when they don’t reproduce you know;_   _that’s the normal thing to do._ But Clark was always far from normal. He have waited for the call since puberty, the inevitable ticking of his biological clock, and yet nothing has happened. Without the cue, he could not decide whether he wanted kids or not: the prospect was both exciting and mortifying. As years went by, a childless future became the only possibility. Clark chose to be Superman – the decision had lasting consequences on his personal life, but he was at peace with them for most of the time.

Then he met Bruce and it was like coming home.

 At first Clark did not even see him properly because of all the cameras flashing, but the very outline of the man’s impressive silhouette was enough for him to think _I’m in trouble._ Except that he was not. Being around Bruce felt like putting on a favorite sweater. Whenever they were making love, Clark’s whole body sang about how right they were for each other. He has met plenty of alphas with their heady scents and swaggering ways – Clark may have had a crush on one or two of them – but they were nothing compared to the mature virility of Bruce Wayne. They were compatible in every way imaginable. Clark fell for Bruce helplessly. Fortunately, Bruce felt the same way about him.

And now, after almost a year of bonding, Clark’s body is begging for a baby.  

\---

“Do you want to have kids someday?”

Clark never asked her about it when they were together – there was just too much going on. Not to mention he has never felt that overwhelming need for procreation in her presence, even though she was always a caring, responsible alpha. Now is the time as good as any: they are having their monthly Saturday brunch in their favorite coffee shop.

“No,” Lois answers without hesitation and chomps on a bagel, “I’d be a terrible mother.”

“What? You’d be a great mom!” He means it with all his heart.

“I would never ever quit my job, Clark,” she says. “How would you feel like if your mother disappeared for a week in the middle of a war zone? I knew since day one that having a family wasn’t an option.”

 _Better question: how would I feel like if both of my parents risked their lives on daily basis?_ Clark thinks to himself. A bucket of ice fills his stomach.

“And you never… had any doubts?” 

“Not really. I mean, I thought about it when I was freezing my ass off in Chechnya. Nice little house with a white fence. Homemade dinner. Lovely omega playing with our cute little pups. Everything the glossy magazines sell as the ultimate dream. But that wasn’t the real me. Now I’m just too old anyway.”

“Having kids after forty is nothing out of ordinary these days,” Clark says and wonders if Bruce thinks the same.

“Oh please. It’s not about my age,” she scoffs a little. “I like my life the way it is now. I don’t want any major changes. Ten years ago I would compromise. If I have found a really great mate, I’d try to make things work. I’ve had the energy. But now? It’s either my way or no way.”

 _Sounds like something Bruce would say, doesn’t it?_ Clark’s subconscious is going to give him a headache today. “Too bad. Your children would be smart and beautiful.”

“Not to mention ginger.” She smiles at him softly. “So why exactly are you asking me this now?”

At first, Clark wants to laugh it off with some poor excuse or a made-up story. But it is been nagging him for so long, that _ache_ that does not ever leave, and he needs a friend to get through this before he talks to Bruce. Clark does not dare to look her in the eye as he mutters into his coffee cup: “I think I want to have a baby.”

“And you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to crave for.” It is not a question but a statement. Clark can only nod in agreement. Nobody says anything for a long moment. Finally Lois asks: “Have you talked to mister B?”

“No. At least not yet.” He sighs. “First I need to figure out what I really feel.”

“You’ve never thought about this before? That’s so unlike you.”

“Of course I thought about it, but it was always hypothetical, you know?” He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Like… I wanted to. Someday in the distant future, with the perfect mate. But I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know what to do with my life… And then everything turned upside down, which I couldn’t predict even if I tried. So I pretty much… resigned.”

“But then a knight in shining armor showed up and swept you off your feet,” there is no bite in her sarcasm.

“Yeah.” Clark agrees with a sigh. “It’s kind of funny how I always saw myself as different… And look at me now, acting like a textbook omega.“

“Hey, no omega self-loathing on my watch,” Lois says. “You’re human, Clark. My priorities are different, but wanting to have a family is nothing to be ashamed of.”

 _Everyone should have a Lois,_ Clark thinks and gives her a small smile. “I wasn’t expecting this, Lo. I didn’t… I didn’t know it would hurt like that. The worst part is that I’m not even sure if it’s me or my hormones talking. I really hate to say this but…” _I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,_ “my clock is ticking and I’m not getting any younger.”

“So you’re ready to take the cape off?”

Clark avoided that question for the longest time. He is so, so not ready. He is also fully aware that he will have to do it. The world as it is was not ready for Superman: it is not hard to imagine how people would react to _omega_ Superman. So far the general public seemed to be convinced that because of his alien origins, he was casteless. Lois hinted that in some of her articles; Bruce, the master of disinformation, spread the rumor like wildfire. As for Clark, he always made sure to generously apply the scent blockers not only on himself, but on the suit as well. There is no way to hide a pregnant belly in an outfit this tight though.

“Would it be selfish if I did?” He asks.

“Hell no,” Lois says confidently, “if anyone in this world deserves to be happy, it’s you. Talk to your alpha, Clark.”

 _But I’m very afraid of what he has to say,_ Clark thinks and says: “But do you… do you think it’s a good idea?”  

Lois looks at him the way she looks at interviewees – eyes warm, face deadly serious. “ You know I can’t give you an answer. The right decision is the one you make with B. If you two decide not to have kids, if you can move on without having them, you’ll continue to do a great job and live your life with a mate who loves you. But if you take the risk and get pregnant… Well, that pup is going to be the luckiest kid in the world.”

 “And you’re going to be a wonderful godmother.” Clark says with a smile.

“You better watch out. I’m going to be the cool aunt who undermines your authority.”

“Can you do that to B instead?”

“Consider it done!”

\---

The first step to having a heart to heart conversation with Bruce Wayne is to fuck him really, really good.

Clark rides him in reverse to give Bruce a nice view. His moves are inhumanly quick, shallow, and make his butt jiggle in a way that makes the alpha go absolutely crazy. Slick is running from Clark’s entrance down his thighs, glistens on Bruce’s dick and abdomen as well. Slapping sounds echo in the lake house, impossibly obscene when combined with their breathy moans.

Clark looks over his shoulder to catch Bruce’s reaction: “You like that?”

Bruce’s eyes are dark, lips red and slightly parted – he is clearly at a loss for words. _Gotcha,_ Clark thinks and spreads his ass cheeks, exposing the tight ring of muscle ready to clamp on a knot; he cannot help but smile when he hears a loud gasp escaping his mate’s mouth. Those people saying that alphas are dominant by nature should see for themselves who is in control here.

What is frustrating about Bruce is that he does not really enjoy knotting – or lying immobilized in bed for an hour to be precise. It is not a very alpha thing to do, but Bruce always had something on his mind, places to be, mysteries to solve. With an exception for Clark’s heats, he rarely allowed himself to swell inside his omega. Being creative and just a little wicked, Clark knows how to get what he wants anyway.

“Knot me,” he pleads in the sweetest tone imaginable, “please, it’s been so long…” he smacks his own ass sharply, “I miss it so much…”

He is sure it worked even before Bruce changes their position. Clark lies flat on his front as Bruce fucks into him with a newfound purpose, growling, taking what is already his, holding one of Clark’s hands against the sheets in a solid grasp.

It is so fucking good Clark can hear his own eyes roll in their sockets. He whimpers pathetically with every forceful thrust, getting closer to the edge and losing his mind in the process. Bruce’s stubble brushes against his nape and _the scent, oh god, it’s amazing_ fills his nostrils, leaving no room for air. Bruce does not smell like any other alpha Clark has ever met: where they were earthy and generally pleasant, he is simply peculiar. His musk has the rare smoky undertone of a burning incense and something cold, metallic, something like…

“Tell me you want my knot,” Bruce whispers hoarsely into Clark’s ear.

…a steel blade.

“I want it now!” Clark screams with what little strength he has left. He does not have to stroke himself to come, already feeling the heat rising low in his body. They are both getting closer, with Clark whimpering pathetically – _I love you, I love you, I love, I love you, I love you_ – and reaching orgasm after hearing a broken _iloveyoutoo._ Bruce smothers him with body weight and seals them together. For a second everything is quiet, and then Bruce comes, spilling in long, hot spurts. Clark listens to the alpha’s soft cries and tries to lock their lips.

“My alpha,” he murmurs, “so good to me.”

“I’m gonna be late for my meeting with Gordon,” Bruce grunts. 

“He’ll wait for you. He always waits.”

Bruce sighs, then moves gently so they can lie on their sides. He smears Clark’s drying cum all over his stomach.

“You’re making a mess out of me,” Clark says, but does not really mind.

“That’s what you get for keeping me here.”

Instead of replying, Clark squeezes his inner muscles, stretched almost painfully around Bruce’s shaft.

“You tease,” Bruce sighs against his lips.

Clark lets out a tiny giggle. They make out slowly, inhaling their mixed scents. How easy it would be to just stop taking pills and convince Bruce to knot him in the heat of the moment… With a generous amount of blockers, the alpha would not even notice the slight change in his scent… Unexpected pregnancies happen all the time…

At once Clark realizes _what_ he has been thinking of and feels utterly disgusted with himself.

“Luthor wants to import the xenomineral to the States. We need to figure out what he’s up to.” Only Bruce could bring up a subject of a potentially lethal threat and nuzzle at Clark’s neck at the same time. Recently he had found out about Lex Corp’s research on the alien substance: the early results alarmed him to say the least.

_There goes romance and my perfect moment._

“Do we really have to talk about this right now?” Clark sighs. He did not mean to sulk, but he has been nervous all day long. It looks like he has been gathering up the courage for nothing.

“It might be dangerous for you.” Bruce’s tone sounds almost condescending.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me. It’s just that…” Words are suddenly stuck in Clark’s mouth. “Nevermind.”

“Why are you fussing? This is important.”

“I know it’s important. Maybe I just don’t want to discuss this with your knot still inside of me.” Clark wishes he did not encourage Bruce so much. Starting a fight during knotting seems like the kind of behavior that could break up relationships way more stronger than theirs.

After a moment of silence, Bruce continues calmly: “Reliable sources confirmed that Luthor isn’t a fan of Superman. I need to know what’s his plan.”

_Because you like me the best when I’m wearing red and blue._

“Yeah. You’re right,” Clark agrees. _You’re always right._

“Then what’s wrong?” The alpha asks with genuine concern.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, really,” Clark does not know if he is trying to convince Bruce or himself. “Let’s cherish the moment, alright? No serious talks.”

They stay quiet for the next half-hour. Clark closes his eyes and listens to Bruce’s strong heartbeat. He imagines another one – very small, very quiet – beating in the same rhythm. Those tears threatening to fall _must_ be something hormonal. Perhaps it is because of their mutual ever-growing addiction to each other: his primal omega brain wants to settle down and keep this mighty alpha to itself. The bond created by having children is always the strongest. Or maybe Clark just really likes the false idea of _forever._

Finally Bruce goes limp. They part without a single word. The damage is done.

“Will you help with the shipwreck tomorrow?” Bruce asks as he goes to the bathroom.

A cruise ship ran aground on a reef off the coast of Florida and toppled onto its side. Passengers made it safely to the shore, but the removal of half-submerged ship from the ocean could take months.

“Mhmm. I will.”

_Because that’s what matters the most, right? Us being heroes. Our duties. Always on the watch, being brave when others don’t have the courage. We will always push ourselves to do more for the people we don’t even know. Sacrifices be damned._

“Clark… Are you crying?”

He is just too tired, too empty. Starving for a shred of normality. For tiny heartbeat and little feet and cute button nose. For love. It is so not fair what he is about to say, he is well aware of it when he opens his mouth:

“You don’t want me to have babies!”

\---

He probably should have gone to Metropolis somewhere between “Your timing is fucking impeccable, Clark!” and “You just hate the idea of having a normal life with me, don’t you Bruce?”, but he chose to stay and wait for the Batman to come back from the patrol; he just hates leaving in the middle of a fight. Usually they make up quickly after letting the emotions cool down a bit. Clark has a sinking feeling that it is not going to be one of those times. He sits on the sofa and kills the time with stuff on his phone – the smell of bedsheets is unbearable at the moment.

_Are we even gonna make it?_

Bruce probably had a very long list of arguments on why this is a bad idea – good arguments, logical ones. The type of arguments Clark cannot really disagree with. And what does he have? Nothing much past the point of _I really want to have a baby._ Then again, is it not enough? The world existed before Superman’s arrival and will continue to do so if he disappears for a while. It will not be easy and he is already scared of it, but the thought of their child’s laughter resonating in the room destroys all of his doubts. He would give this baby _everything._    

It is getting close to three in the morning when he sees the batmobile. He listens intently as Bruce roams around the cave, checks the engine, types something on the computer, examines the slightly damaged batsuit… Takes his time in general.

_Will he avoid me? Should I go to him? He must’ve noticed the lights are on…_

Finally Bruce hits the showers – an unmistakable sign that he is done for the night. Clark needs to remind himself to breathe easily. The elevator goes up, the steps are getting closer, and then his alpha is right there. They stare at each other, waiting for the other one to start talking.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Bruce breaks the silence.

“Me neither.” Clark pats the seat next to him. Bruce takes the invitation.

“You’ve never said anything about pups,” he says.

“I know. It was a dick move to bring this up the way I did. I’m sorry.” Clark sighs heavily. “I just… Kept it bottled up for too long, I guess.”

“I’m very tired.” He sure looks like it. “Can we have this conversation some other time?”

“When?” Clark will not stand the tension any longer.

Bruce rubs at his face. “How about… I’m gonna set the alarm early so we can talk over breakfast?”

It is a huge relief. “Sounds good.”

Bruce nods. They go to bed in peace, but stay on their respectful sides for the rest of the night. Neither of them sleeps well.  


	2. Chapter 2

Even though September is almost over, the sky is perfectly clear. It is warm enough to have breakfast on the patio. Clark soaks up the morning sun. He is less agitated than he was last night: daylight always makes him feel better. Bruce brings their food, looking like the picture-perfect creature of the night taken out of its element.

“Thank you,” Clark says when the man puts a plate in front of him. They are having scrambled eggs with ham and tomatoes, mostly because no matter how hard he tries, Bruce cannot fry a proper sunny side up.

They eat in silence. Clark waits until the alpha finishes his killer espresso. It is not wise to start a conversation before that happens. Finally, there is a chance to ask the question he had practiced over and over again in his head for the better part of the night: “Do you want to have a baby?”

Bruce chews his food absently, looking directly at the table. “Will you leave me if I say no?” His voice is strained. “Be honest.”

The thought alone nearly breaks Clark’s heart in half. “I wouldn’t know how.”

“That wasn’t my definitive answer by the way.” Something dark shows on Bruce’s face and vanishes in an instant. “How long have you been thinking about it?”

“About six months?” Clark says wistfully. “Since the first time I’ve felt our bond. That was when, you know… I felt it’s something real.” After a moment of silence he continues: “It’s not that I want to have pups with any willing alpha that comes along the way, Bruce. I want to have them with you. I want _us.”_

Birds chirp joyfully above their heads. At the moment it is kind of annoying.

“Every person close to us is in potential danger.” Bruce says, avoiding Clark’s gaze. “There are bastards who will hurt them just so they can get to us. Sometimes capes and cowls aren’t enough to keep everyone safe.”

Clark can feel whom he is talking about, but does not address the subject any further. Bruce is right: Lois gets blackmailed on weekly basis. She laughs it off and says she had worse, but only time will tell if the threats become reality.

“That’s the risk.” Clark sighs. “But I… I believe it’s worth it. We’re gonna do everything to protect the pup. And we have people who’ll help us.”

“That doesn’t guarantee anything,” Bruce barks.

“It’s called life. Life doesn’t guarantee anything, Bruce,” Clark tries to remain calm. “Even if we were a normal couple, we still couldn’t be sure if one day, our pup won’t do something reckless like crossing the street without looking both ways.”

“Could you live with yourself if anything happened to it?” Bruce interrupts. “If you knew it was all your fault, what would you do?”

Clark drops the fork, irritated. “This talk has no sense if all you do is come up with dark scenarios.”

“I’m being rational.”

“Fine. Then the rational answer is, I’d rather die than let that happen.” He takes a deeper breath. “And you know what? Here I am, still willing to take the risk. Because there’s more to it than fear. There’s so much love and joy ahead of us. Just… happiness. We deserve that.”

Bruce looks like he wants to say _speak for yourself_ but immediately changes his mind. “You’d have to stop being Superman. At least for a while.”

“I thought about it.” And then it dawns on him. Certainty without any shadow of a doubt. He had to wait for it, but it is finally here, blossoming in his soul. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

Clark’s tone is firm when he says: “Yes, I’m sure.”

Bruce continues eating, deep in thought, hunched over his plate. Clark studies him in silence: the graying hair, broad shoulders clad in black t-shirt, subtle lines on the forehead. Of all the alphas on Earth, here is the one who makes Superman feel safe. Being submissive to him does not feel insulting nor degrading: Clark gives it voluntarily, whenever he chooses to. They are equals – they were like that since day one. Bruce’s sense of self-worth does not depend on any omegas’ docility. And in those rare moments when he truly opens up, he bleeds love.

“You haven’t given me an answer, you know,” Clark reminds him gently. Bruce stops eating, face hidden in his hands. “It’s not that simple,” he says.

“So you’ve never?...”

Bruce sighs. “I wasn’t exactly focused on having a family.”

“Yeah. The car kinda gave you away,” despite his worry, Clark manages to crack a smile.

“Precisely.” Bruce agrees, but does not look at him. “I haven’t thought about it in years. Now you’re dropping it on my head without any kind of warning…” He pinches the bridge of his nose like he is about to get a migraine. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer.”

“But how do you feel?”

 _“Feel?_ For fuck’s sake, Clark… After what happened last night, my first instinct was to keep you knotted down nonstop for a week. If my primal part takes charge, you’ll walk out of here pregnant today. But instincts don’t always make the right choices. I need to think this through.”

Clark feels that they are going nowhere. “It all comes down to a simple answer, Bruce. Yes or no. There’s no gray area.”

After that has been said, further arguing has little to no sense. It is getting late anyway. Clark gets up from his seat with mixed feelings.

“I gotta go.” He kisses the top of Bruce’s head on his way out. “I love you.”

Bruce does not say it back. Clark pretends it is okay.

\---

LL: have you talked to B?

CK: yes

CK: it didn’t go well

LL: how so?

CK: we had a fight

CK: he was an asshole, I was too emotional

 CK: in the morning we talked again and he said he needs to think this over

CK: that’s it for now

LL: thinking over is not a no

CK: somehow I feel he already made his choice…

CK: he’s not saying it only because he’s afraid I’m gonna leave him

LL: I kind of understand him you know

CK: don’t worry, I’m not going to pressure him into anything

LL: but you do have the right to know what’s next for the two of you

LL: giving him some time to think is ok

LL: just don’t let it last for months or worse, years

LL: he’s a big dog

LL: he knows what he wants

CK: you’re right

CK: do you think one week is enough?

CK: and then I’ll ask him about it if he doesn’t say anything?

LL: yeah

LL: week is more than enough

CK: thanks

LL: how are you feeling?

CK: not that great tbh

LL: coffee break?

CK: sure

\---

For two agonizing days, Bruce stays completely silent. Clark wants to call or send a plain text, but decides to give the man some space. After the third day, his resolve breaks, but he gets redirected straight to the voicemail. _This is bullshit,_ he thinks angrily. The worst part is that he misses the alpha – not only in the emotional sense, but he craves for him physically. It was proven by science that bonded mates often experience great distress when separated. Dying from longing was, of course, just a trope from old romance novels, and bonds – even the strongest ones – could get broken. It makes Clark want to curl up under the blanket and stay like that forever. He wonders if Bruce needs him just as much and if so, why is he not calling? Is he even aware of their bond? The baby talk does not mean their relationship is on hiatus, right? _So how come he is not calling?_

Clark fulfills his duties. Removes the cruise ship from the ocean. Saves a group of tourists lost in the mountains. Stops a fire in downtown Gotham while straining his ears to hear Bruce’s heartbeat. The alpha was at his office at the time, prim and professional as usual.

 _Maybe he thinks I’m a gold digger_ goes through Clark’s head. That is a ridiculous thought, and yet… There were plenty of people from every caste who would do anything to get their hands on Wayne’s fortune. Bruce had to deflect them nearly the whole time. It would come as no surprise if he became more cautious because of that. There is also the matter of heritage: once the information about Bruce Wayne’s lawful inheritor is out in the open, everyone will start asking questions. Their secret identities might be compromised. Doubts multiply the more Clark thinks about it, and he thinks about it all the time and worries terribly, and then Bruce just _does not pick up the goddamn phone._

At sunset, he flies over Metropolis to clear his head. The sun reflects on the water in the bay, painting the skyscrapers in gold and pink. His cape floats happily in the wind. This is where he belongs. A _m I really ready to give up on this?_ The question nags him constantly, nearly every minute. It is in the faces of the people he saved and in the catastrophes he prevented, in the evening news and in random cries for help. The answer is always “yes”.

\---

The following day, he stops at the red light on his way to the Planet. There is a school bus standing in the lane next to him. A dark-skinned girl, around seven or eight years old, looks outside the window: her huge, round eyes scan Clark’s bike with interest – looks like she is dreaming of her own. She catches Clark’s stare and turns sheepish in a second, but he reassures her with a grin. In return, she proudly presents a gap where front teeth should be. It is the most beautiful smile Clark has ever seen. They wave at each other in goodbye when the light turns green.

Clark imagines a little girl – with his curly hair and Bruce’s serious, October eyes – hiding her baby teeth under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy. He fiercely refuses to get teary-eyed. _Pull yourself together Kent, your heat is getting closer and the hormones are taking over,_ he justifies himself while getting into the elevator.

The urge to cry strikes again way sooner than Clark expected. There is a bouquet of white roses waiting for him on his desk – perfectly elegant and inconspicuous; not too big, so it does not attract attention. A card hidden in the middle has just one word written down in neat, all too familiar handwriting:

_YES_


	3. Chapter 3

_“LexCorp is very proud of its key role in the reconstruction of Metropolis. We believe that by responding to the needs of the residents, we create a path to a brighter, prosperous future for the entire country…”_

Luthor’s PR stunts are always perfectly scripted. Bruce recognizes the patterns – he used some of them in the past. However, Luthor is smart enough to not leave any room for improvisation. Once he strays from the memorized material, his eccentric mannerisms take hold and alienate the listeners. He tries very hard to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Bruce is not fooled. Takes one to know one. A silhouette approaching the front door distracts him from the live conference on TV.

It has been a week since Clark stopped taking contraceptives. Thanks to the pill, he have not suffered the full effect of going into heat in years: not only does it protect from pregnancy, but when paired with the right diastolic medication, it reduces every omega’s heats to a mild inconvenience. Of course having sex is helpful, too. Dildos and butt plugs shaped like alpha’s knot are the ultimate online bestseller.

Clark enters the house with a spring in his step, surrounded by that special, indescribable aura, smiling when he says: “Hey there, handsome!” It is so obvious now: from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, Clark is fully ready to become a parent.  

Bruce knows he should have said no. He should have because truth of the matter is… they do not know if Clark can bear children or not. The first naturally born son of Krypton turned out to be the very last. The lost phantom of Jor-El said that Kryptonians wanted to speed up the evolution by erasing the link connecting their species to the primal ancestors. Thanks to eugenic engineering, the order based on alpha, beta and omega predispositions has not existed on Krypton for centuries before the house of El’s rebellion. Clark is truly one of a kind. For all of his human traits, his biology remains a mystery. But Bruce did know how to refuse. He also does not know how will he deal with Clark’s broken heart.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, turning the TV off.

“Same as ever,” Clark shrugs. “Nothing’s changed, really. I’m kind of surprised. I was prepared to feel… I don’t know. Differently.”

“Your scent hasn’t changed at all,” Bruce notices, puzzled.

“Maybe it’s the blockers. Here, have a noseful.”

Bruce sniffs at his wrist where the pulse point is the strongest and yes, there is a slight change after all, so minor it could easily go unnoticed. Alpha’s sense of smell is typically the strongest among all of the casts, yet Bruce cannot really put his finger on what is different: it is not the intensity nor the undertones. Clark still smells like Clark, but there is something new: a whiff of sweetness that stings his nostrils, rich and kind of flowery like Monoi oil, inviting him to dart his tongue out and have a taste...

“I’m guessing you like it?” Clark’s voice snaps him out of the trance. Bruce got positively lost while chasing the sweet note; one can only imagine what it will do to him once the sillage gets heavier.

“It’s not bad,” he admits reluctantly, just for a show.

Clark smirks mischieviously, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy. He floats upwards and lands softly on Bruce’s welcoming lap. “There’s one annoying side effect though,” he says, opening the top buttons of his alpha’s shirt.

“What is it?” Bruce asks, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in the private parts. Clark takes his hand.

“I get wet very, very quickly,” he confesses in a hushed tone. Bruce presses on the damp spot on the back of Clark’s jeans. Slick could drench the fabric any minute now. Maybe it is just his imagination, but the ass filling those jeans feels more plump than usual.

“Saw your picture today at work,” Clark whispers into his ear. “Nearly flooded my chair…”

“Sweet Jesus,” Bruce moans.

Clark slowly unbuttons his shirt. “It was so damn hard to do my job, Bruce… Thinking about nothing but your big,” he unbuckles alpha’s belt, “juicy dick,” unzips the pants, “shooting hot load deep inside of me…” and sneaks his hand inside.

“But is it safe?” Bruce decides to tease him a little.

“Oh,” Clark purrs seductively, “it’s very not safe.”

Bruce wishes for it to happen right now, just like that. No waiting, no hesitancy, no exhaustion. Omegas can get pregnant outside of their heats, the chances are just infinitely smaller. A few moans, quick release, and that would be it. They move to the bed, growing more desperate with every breath. It is the same as always and brand new altogether, like their first time and the hundredth time. They go through the well-practiced motions with unusual alertness, both aware of what it means to have sex now. Bruce can feel himself trembling slightly. Clark cups his face gently, looks him in the eye like he wants to say _I know, I know, I can’t believe it’s happening either._  

Although it hurts to admit, for the most of his life Bruce was focused on dying. He was certain that Gotham would take his last breath rather sooner than later. But the years went by and he fought and failed and lived. He grew older than he ever assumed to be possible. He met Clark who was all about remaining hopeful against all odds. His beacon. It was about time for Bruce to focus on living.

They go slow, almost soundless, until the beast hiding inside of Bruce’s chest rises its wild muzzle with interest, activated by the rush of hormones. Here is an omega ready for the taking, incredibly powerful and pliant at the same time. Fertile. The beast claims him just the way it did a thousand times before, but now it is different, deeper and more important than ever. The rapidly swelling knot feels almost as good as the relief itself. Claimed omega cries with pleasure when his alpha’s semen pours into him. They become one.

Clark draws complicated patterns on Bruce’s back. “I’m glad it’s you,” he murmurs softly. Bruce nuzzles his neck, unable to find the right words. Usually he says that knotting is a waste of time, which is not entirely true: first and foremost it makes him feel vulnerable. No one can conceal their feelings for very long while being this close with another person. Fortunately, he does not have to pretend when he is with Clark. Bruce did not know he could love like that – the kind of love that does not enslave but sets free. He doses off, lulled by the post-coital bliss. When his knot gets softer, he pulls out and lays on his back, ready to sleep some more before the patrol.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” Clark says as he gets up. This time cum does not trickle out of him, absorbed to the last drop. “Now we have to wait for my heat.”

“Your heat is in three weeks,” Bruce frowns.

“Yeah, and I need you in your best shape.”

Bruce freezes. It is true that he is not the youngest dog in the pack anymore, but the comment feels like an unnecessary jab. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“Honey, don’t pout. Every athlete has to rest a little bit before the Olympics.” He winks at Bruce and disappears in the bathroom.

\---

Clark delivered the leave of absence form straight to Perry’s desk, along with a proper note from the doctor. The boss did not even bat an eye, either too polite to ask for details or too drowned in work to give a damn. Lois agreed to fill up for him, knowing instantly what is the meaning behind the health leave. “You’re not even pregnant yet and you’re already glowing,” she said. For three weeks Clark did his best to not get into trouble, read every piece of advice on trying for a baby that was available online, and (although he would rather die than own it with no shame) created a Pinterest account for all the cute baby’s clothes and nursery rooms inspirations. He is light.  

Bruce discreetly let his secretary know that he would be unavailable (“Short holiday on Hawaii, Grace. I just need it.”). He also put extra effort to avoid getting shot or stabbed. He asked Alfred to refrain from visiting the lake house for a couple of days. The old man did not question it, yet his clipped “as you wish, sir” was colored with obvious curiosity. Bruce wanted to keep him in the dark – one person less to disappoint. He worked out, stayed hydrated, took his vitamins, and tried not to jack off at the very thought of what was about to happen. Instead, he thought of legal matters and potential dangers. Despite the better judgement, he also made some plans. He is cautious.

They were ready, tucked away safely in Bruce’s home, but the heat did not strike as expected. The first day went by and nothing happened. That was not a big surprise: Clark was on the pill since the age of seventeen. The hormonal exchange in his body probably needed some time to achieve balance. After all, nature cannot be programmed. It was a pleasant, lazy day.  

By the end of the second day, they had a quickie in the kitchen, hoping that it would cause the heat to finally show up. It did not help.

On the third day, Bruce got restless.

“There was an uproar in Arkham,” he says sternly. “I have to go.”

“Last time I checked this city had a police department.” Clark did not mean to sound so jaded, yet this is not what they agreed on, and on top of being a hormonal mess, he is also anxious as hell. He needs his alpha to be close, _dammit._

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Bruce promises. He rests his head on Clark’s lap – a sign of submission he shows only under special circumstances.

“Okay.” Clark sighs with resignation. He just does not want to fight. “Please watch out for yourself.” They both know Bruce will not listen.

Left alone with his thoughts, Clark begins to worry. Is this how it is going to be? With him stuck at home while Bruce stays on never-ending stand by, ready to leave whenever commissioner Gordon sneezes? What is more important than being together? Why he has to leave now of all times? Is having a family his priority?

Clark paces nervously around the glass house. Maybe this is a bad idea. Come to think of it, it is actually insane. How will they manage to raise a child with the lifestyle they chose? What if they will not be there when their child needs them the most – be it a failed test or a bruised knee? What if it will feel neglected because parents insist on carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders?

Perhaps there is a reason why his heat is late. There are so many things he could be doing right now. Lives that could be saved if he was not fixated on getting fucked into bliss… No. This is not about that. They are going to start a family. A tiny girl or a boy will run around these forests… or maybe even fly. Nothing will ever be easy for them, but they will go through it all together. He has to believe in that.

\---

It is getting light outside when Clark suddenly wakes up. He fell asleep on the couch, bored by a particularly challenging chapter of _Finnegans Wake._ At first he is not really sure what woke him up, and then a contraction hits him low in the abdomen.

“Ah, hell…” he mutters under his breath. No matter how much he have read about what to expect, he could not prepare himself to feel actual pain. Slick is everywhere, soaking up his sweats and the blanket. Something like a rash creeps under his skin, paints it with feverish red. It is scary. He has forgotten everything about those first few heats he went through as a teenager in Kansas. Omegas were supposed to be sexy and irresistible during that time – he feels anything but. He is half hard, his insides clench around nothing, and all he wants is to get high on pain killers.

Before he sees him coming, Clark can smell the alpha pheromones in the air. His whole body immediately lightens up. He lifts his head to greet Bruce and halts in shock. It is not Bruce walking towards him. It is Batman.

“I could smell you from the cave,” he growls and takes the cowl off, cape still floating behind him like a pair of giant wings. He drops on his knees in front of Clark. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

Clark whines loudly when the alpha tears of his wet pants. Then he spreads Clark’s legs as far as possible and for a moment just watches with sick fascination as the natural lubricant flows in earnest from the entrance, inviting him to get inside. He bows his head low, looking like a man possessed by a demon.

“Oh my _god,”_ Clark screams when Bruce licks into him. The effect of every stimulation is doubled compared to how he usually feels during sex. Arousal skyrockets when he watches Bruce in this position, the mighty alpha kneeling before him in black, his scent betraying how much he wants to mate. Another contraction reminds Clark of what could bring him instant relief.

“Bruce… I n-need…” Speaking gets harder. Soon the reality will be nothing but a blur. The alpha understands: he picks Clark up with little effort. They do not even make it to the bedroom. Bruce slams them against a glass wall. His brain is clouded with lust when he rips off the front fabric of the batsuit in one move, just enough to expose the jockstrap underneath – it gets thrown on the floor with brutal force. Bruce’s impressive erection springs free, big and solid, balls loaded with cum. Clark never wanted him more.

“Make me pregnant,” he mewls pathetically and wraps his legs around the alpha’s waist. The first push is welcomed with a high-pitched moan. _Finally_ the pain becomes bearable only to disappear completely after a few deliciously deep thrusts. All of a sudden, a feeling of pure pride takes over Clark. No matter what was normalized by the polite society’s norms, it was always omegas’ right to make the choice, not alphas’. It was entirely up to them who they wanted to bond with. And Clark chose so _well,_ the absolute best, a prime example of mature virility – tall, healthy, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, nothing of frail boyhood left in him. The perfect alpha, guaranteeing a strong offspring. But Bruce is so much more than just physically attractive: he is truly powerful, both in the boardroom of Wayne Enterprises and in the dark streets of Gotham, instilling fear among lesser men and _oh god good god,_ on top of everything he fucks like a champion.

_All of this is mine, only mine..._

The last thing Clark remembers from that night is Bruce’s black glove against the cold glass.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, so here's my gift for you all!... Although it's not what you expected.

He was in the woods for a very long time: alone, starving, his thin body shuddering from fever. The will to live left him a long time ago – now it is time for surrender. He has nothing to lose. Although he had hoped that death would end him gently, he feels almost grateful for the disease consuming his lungs. Finally, an excuse good enough to stop fighting. He does not have to try anymore. It is quiet, and soon there will be nothing.

The pain becomes unbearable. He is not afraid of death, but dying turns out to be something entirely different. As the world becomes brighter and brighter, shark’s teeth white, a tiny part of him screams _I don’t want to die_. He knows it is too late. The fate has been sealed.   

Clark will never get used to people reacting like this: the homeless man looks at him with disbelieve, eyes round and huge, too big for his skinny, malnourished face. His every breath is raspy, exhausted. He probably thinks that Clark is nothing but a hallucination, created by his dying brain to bring some false sense of comfort in the final hour.

“Please, don’t be scared,” Clark says as he lands softly on the ground. “I’m here to help you.” The man does not make a move, too weak or too frightened by the sight of Clark descending from the sky. The Superman. “Can you hear me?” Clark asks and gets a nod in response. “Good. I’ll get you out of here, alright? I’m gonna come closer now and take you to the hospital.” He wants to add _everything is going to be fine_ , but something tells him it is not the right thing to say. “You’re not alone.”

As the wind brushes against his face, the man feels a new flicker of hope rising deep in his soul. _I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I’m not going to die._ If he was not heavily dehydrated, he would shed a tear.

Clark leaves the emergency room in a hurry. When he flies above the clouds, he wonders if the man will get his life back on tracks. What has happened must feel like a miracle to him, and yet Clark wishes there was something more he could do. In the end, Superman can only give people a chance – it is up to them if they take it or not. After years of doubts, this seems to be the answer to what he should do with the powers he has been given. It is the right thing to do.

Perhaps this is his true mission in life.

Perhaps this is why he is not going to have a baby.

\---

Seven men, four women. Armed. Drunk. It is a party. They have a good reason to celebrate. Bruce watches their every move through night vision goggles, lurking from a nearby rooftop.

_…omegas have up to 80% chances of getting pregnant during heat._ The thought has been nagging Bruce all day. _Nearly 90% if mated with an alpha…_

A voluptuous girl counts the money and puts them in a briefcase. Her boyfriend and the boss observe it with fake indifference, both holding semiautomatic guns.

_…some researchers still support the theory that the bond between alpha and omega is essential for reproduction, even though it has been proven false on multiple instances…_

Conversations are muffled by the music blasting from the speakers. Younger members of the gang are laughing. They probably feel like kings and queens of the world.

_…the quality of male semen drops dramatically after the age of forty, alphas are no exception to this rule…_

They are all smoking pot, having a good time. Larger than life. They do not know yet that one of their companions is an undercover agent – Gordon assigned him personally over a year ago. Tonight will show if the infiltration has paid off. The briefcase is full; the boss gives an order to move. That means it is time for Bruce to move as well.

He swings between Gotham’s worn-out buildings with master precision. All of his senses are sharpened, mind as clear as crystal… If it was not for the purulent feeling that he has failed miserably. Perhaps he should not even try to form a pack. The last time he did, it had a tragic ending. Perhaps he belongs to the night. _This_ is what he is really good at: hunting, spying, fighting. When he wears the suit, domestic life seems out of reach. He has always been a lone wolf. Or maybe just a shit alpha. Clark deserves someone more like himself – someone younger, less jaded, warmer.

But Bruce _wants,_ he wants him so badly, him and their little pack. Without Clark, there is no point to any of this. He is better with him, _for_ him. He will try again. Mom and dad would like that.

\---

The day when Pa died, time has stopped at the farm. No matter how many years went by, the air is the same. The colors are the same. Pa could walk out from the barn any minute now and Clark would not be surprised. One thing that has changed for sure is himself. Even though he sits on the front porch the same way he did a countless times before, the suit and the cape and the boots remind him that there is no turning back. The stars on the night sky twinkle merrily, calling him home. When he was a child, he missed them with a kind of longing that could not be expressed in human words. Today he knows that his home is right here, on Earth. Smallville is home. Metropolis is home. Bruce is home. 

Ma joins him with a mug of hot chocolate. It is perfect: rich, creamy, with just the right amount of whipped cream and sprinkles, topped with two raspberry marshmallows. “Here you go,” she says and sits right next to him.

“Thanks.” Clark takes a sip and closes his eyes, then sighs deeply, content to the brim. “Tell me the truth, am I too old for this?”

The crinkles around her eyes deepen when she smiles. “You’ll always be my baby. You just got a little bigger, that’s all.” He heard that a number of times before: parents always see their children as little kids. He suspects he would be the same. If only he had a chance to act this way. Ma does not insist to hear what is wrong. For a moment they just enjoy the view.

“Ma, please don’t get excited but I… I’m not taking contraceptives anymore.” She does not seem to understand. “We’re trying for a baby,” Clark specifies. The look on her face outshines the sun. “Oh, Clark,” she brings her hands to her lips, clearly delighted, “that’s wonderful!”

“Yeah. It’s just that, uhmm…” His face turns a little red. “We already went through one heat and… well, I’m not pregnant.” Admitting this out loud leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He takes another sip of hot chocolate to make it go away. “That’s not something to worry about,” Ma says, “you still have plenty of time.”

“I was so sure we were gonna make it on first try,” he sighs. “We’re… the perfect match. Over ninety percent chance. That doesn’t happen very often, you know?”

“Ah yes, I’ve read that article that made everyone go nuts. Two thousand years from now on, alphas and omegas will go extinct and the reign of betas shall begin. Because arranged marriages aren’t a popular custom anymore.” She rolls her eyes. “I hope you don’t listen to that gibberish.”

“It’s also because the human genome is constantly evolving but no, I don’t worry about it too much,” he smiles weakly. “Guess I was just naive.”

“Come on, don’t be upset.” She puts her arm around him. “I understand why you’re disappointed. Waiting for those two lines to show up on a stick can be awful. Just don’t let it get you down, okay?”  

“Yeah, okay.” Clark rests his head on her shoulder. Sometimes he really wishes he could be a little kid again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” she agrees.

“How long were you and Pa trying before you… You know. Knew?”

A heavy sigh raises her chest. Although it has been a very long time, it looks like she never really got over it. Clark instantly regrets asking. “At first we weren’t really trying. We just didn’t use protection and thought that nature will decide when’s the right time. I wasn’t worried until our second anniversary. Then it kind of clicked. Another six months before we went to the doctor. We got our diagnosis after a few tests.” The tone of her voice gives a glimpse of all the pain the young couple of betas had to go through. “Do you remember old Maude?” Clark’s sense of smell is suddenly hit with a stench of burned food and mothballs. “The quirky old lady who made us jam every summer?”, he asks.

“You loved her apricot jam.” Ma smiles. “She wasn’t a very talkative person, was she? One time I was driving her home from church. It was right after our results came in. I don’t know why but I told her about everything. She said, every white trash gets pregnant at fifteen behind their granny’s trailer. They make more pups than they can feed but they don’t care, they just do drugs and rob gas stations to do more drugs. Another generation grows around them to do the same. And nice folks like you and Jon are struggling. That isn’t fair. Good people should have a lot of children. Only then there can be some change in this world.” She pauses, trying to remember more details. “I cried on her shoulder for half an hour. Mind you, we were never close, but I just couldn’t hold it in. She told me to pray and wait patiently because God rewards good people. Back then I didn’t believe her. And then you fell from the sky.” She gently kisses Clark’s forehead. “Don’t worry, something tells me that you and Bruce won’t have to wait for a space ship to hit the ground.”

“That’s a relief,” he nods. Ma gets up to get a blanket while Clark finishes his drink; he makes a mental note to put marshmallows on the grocery list. Ma comes back wrapped up in a bedcover and asks: “You’re hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“Girl,” Clark answers without thinking. “Great! Me too,” she beams up. “Just a forewarning, I’m gonna spoil my grandchild and you can’t do anything to stop me.”

“Ma, I wouldn’t even try.” Clark realizes how much he needed this: reassurance. Hope. Excitement. “So... you think it’s a good idea? We’re not exactly a traditional couple.”

“What did I just tell you, dear?” She tilts her head to the side. “Good people should have kids. They teach them to do the right thing. You can take it from me that it’s not easy, but it’s all worth it.”

“But this means I won’t be him anymore,” Clark points at the emblem on his chest. “I’ll have to stop helping people.”

“You probably already know how I feel about it,” she says. “Don’t prioritize strangers over your own happiness, Clark. You’ve given them so much. I know you don’t ask for anything in return, but you should. It’s about time for you to be a little selfish. Your good deeds won’t get canceled. Besides, you can always make a comeback when the pup gets bigger, right?” He nods, not entirely convinced. “You’ve become so much more than I could ever dream of,” she says, looking at him with wonder. “If only I could live long enough to see what your child will achieve.”

“You will see,” Clark corrects.

“I hope so,” she smiles. “You’re gonna be great parents, Clark.”

\---

The phone rings right at the same time as Bruce rests his head on the pillow. He picks it up grudgingly.

“Hey.” Clark’s soft voice soothes his nerves. “Just calling to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m good. Tired,” Bruce says.

“Was the operation a success?”

“Total. You’ll probably hear about it in the news.”

“If you give an interview to anyone but me, I’m gonna sulk for a year.”

“Sure,” Bruce grunts. He checks the time on his alarm clock. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I was checking up on Ma. Came back not so long ago.”

“How is she?”

“Good, she’s good.” Clark makes a pause. “I told her that we’re trying for a baby.”

Bruce freezes. There are reasons why he insisted on keeping this just between the two of them. “Did you tell her about your last heat?”

“Well, yeah. Please, don’t get upset,” Clark says when he hears a deep, frustrated sigh. “She always knows when something’s bothering me.”

“Is it bothering you?” Bruce snarls. Great. Not only is his omega disappointed in him, but now the unofficial mother-in-law knows all about his inefficiency. “You know what I mean,” Clark says gently. They did not really talk about this earlier and now it is becoming the proverbial elephant in the room. “I’m… sad that I didn’t get pregnant. I know we can try again, but let me be sad just for a moment.”

“Does anyone else knows?” Bruce asks. “Does Lois know?” It is Clark’s turn to sigh, which is everything Bruce needs to know the answer. He rubs his face, frustrated. “God damn it, Clark…”

“She’s my best friend, okay?” Clark can feel himself getting defensive. “And she fills up for me when I’m gone. She’s on your side too, remember that?”

“It should be a private matter,” Bruce says through greeted teeth. “I don’t want your mother and ex-girlfriend” _your  a l p h a  ex-girlfriend,_ “to know when we’re fucking.” The worst part is the questions: he can already hear the _are you pregnant? Did you make it? Oh. Don’t worry, you can always try another time…_

“It’s not only about fucking and you know it.”

“Don’t act like you know what I’m thinking.”

“You’re right, I never know!” Clark raises his voice a little. “That’s why I talk to friends, because you just... distance yourself from everything. Sometimes I’m not sure how to reach you.” Bruce is fully awake now, pacing nervously around the house. He wants to lash out, allow his wild side to take charge and remind this sweet little omega who is in control here… But he is too old for that. Too wise to take pride in acting like the alpha gene gives him the right to boss around – especially towards people close to him. He used to be an expert in taking things too far; it is not a behavior worth prevailing if he wants to be with Clark. So instead of adding fuel to the fire, he counts to ten, breathes deeply and calmly says: “Alfred can’t find out.”

“I’ll leave it to you,” Clark says, relieved that Bruce is not mad. He does not have the energy to fight, but he feels they are just sliding on the surface of a much bigger problem. “Can I ask why?”

“Because he’ll be a nightmare,” Bruce puts some emphasis on the last word. “You have no idea how long he has been nagging me about this. He will stand next to the bed and tell me to keep your legs higher to make sure the job is done.”

“Come on, Alfred is too much of a gentleman to do that…”

“Clark. He raised _me.”_

Long pause. “Alfred can’t find out.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Bruce says and opens the fridge: he is probably not going to sleep anyway, so he may as well have a snack. “Bruce?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want a girl or a boy?”

He honestly has no idea what to say. Even though they went through unprotected heat, having a baby is still mostly a hypothetical concept to Bruce. Despite the fact that he already chose all the schools (Harvard, unless the pup decides to become a doctor, then it is John Hopkins) and made all the additional clauses in his will (pup will get a seat at Wayne Enterprises board at 21, but will not inherit the whole fortune until the age of 25), he never imagined it to be an actual person.

“I don’t know. I just want the pup to be healthy,” he says. “You?”

“Same. Although, to be honest, my heart is set on a girl.”

“Girl.” Bruce nods. “I’m hoping for a girl too then. But it really doesn’t matter that much. It’s not like we can stop her from being a boy if she feels like it.”

“I’ll be the first to drive her to court.” Clark feels lighter. His chest is full of unbelievable fondness. “I really love you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Bruce…”

“I love you too,” he says with a sigh. “Go get some sleep.”

“Fine. You too.”

They are miles apart, but it does not feel that way. Finally Bruce falls asleep, trying to imagine Clark with big belly, and then a little girl running around the place, and he hopes. He just hopes.   


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on a semi-hiatus in September. The next chapter will be published a little later than usual. 
> 
> Hope you will enjoy this one!
> 
> \---

Heat came right on time.

As his knot gets softer and softer, Bruce kisses Clark’s back and slowly gets up. A drop of sweat falls from his forehead on the omega’s flushed skin. Clark does not make a move, asleep and blissful, his body’s thirst quenched. At least for now. Bottles of water enriched with electrolytes stand close to the bed in a neat line. Bruce grabs one of them and immediately downs half of it. He cannot imagine how tiring this would be if he was not an alpha. As it is, despite the weariness, he feels kind of great. And hungry as hell.

After a quick shower, he gets the steak he prepared earlier from the fridge, and then some frozen peas. The bag is so refreshingly _cold._ Without thinking, Bruce brings it close to his crotch. People in Metropolis could probably hear his sigh of relief. In the same moment, his bad knee starts to radiate with pain. Maybe he is too old for this after all. A shadow of a doubt lies heavily on his heart. Will he have enough energy to raise the baby? Will he even live long enough to watch it grow up?... _Stop,_ he thinks to himself, _you’ve made a decision._

While he is still eating, he can hear footsteps emerging from the bedroom. Looks like Clark is going to take a cold shower himself – clear sign that the heat is retreating.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks when Clark joins him in the living room, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe.

“Not quite.” Even though he does not get tired easily, Clark looks drained. He sits next to Bruce and lets his head drop on the alpha’s shoulder. This is part of the reason why Bruce avoided omegas in heat for the most of his life: because of the special hormone produced during that time, they could get irritatingly _clingy._ Granted, alphas were no better – such is the basis of the bond. With Clark, Bruce does not even mind anymore.

“Wanna eat something?” He asks. “It’s been almost twelve hours.”

“Not yet,” Clark answers weakly.

“Did you drink some water?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but I felt like throwing up.”

“I can make you ginger tea if you want?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” Clark kisses lightly the side of his alpha’s neck. “You know, when I’ve met you, I never thought you’d be like this.”

“Like what?” Bruce asks, already defensive.

“Caring,” Clark says. “Gentle. Warm. You seemed like a stone cold motherfucker through and through.”

“Is that so?” Bruce smirks, remembering that party at Luthor’s house. “So why exactly did you hook up with that unpleasant fella the very same night?”

“A very _sexy_ stone cold motherfucker,” Clark adds and kisses his neck again. And again, sucking gently on the skin. Soon he is giving Bruce a hickey in a not-so-subtle manner.

“I think you’re trying to tell me something,” Bruce says, dropping his fork on the plate with a clatter.

“And a smart one, too.” Clark gets up and gives him a look that would make angels turn against God. He walks slowly towards the bedroom. Robe falls from his shoulders, revealing his impressive physique and smooth, erect manhood. His redden lips are slightly parted, eyes heated, cheeks rosy, and Bruce thinks everyone should be eternally grateful that this beautiful creature is at their side. Otherwise, if Clark asked, he would throw the world at his feet just for a chance to kiss the hem of the red cape.

The omega crouches on the bed and fucking _presents_ himself for the taking, his glistening entrance calling his alpha to do what he was made for. Bruce growls unconsciously at the sight. He is hard again, drunk on the sweet, heavy smell of a fertile mate. The thickened slick makes obscene, slurping sounds that accompany each brutal thrust. Clark comes quickly and completely dry. His hole clenches violently around Bruce’s dick, _fuck,_ it is such an honor to be chosen, to be asked to breed him, Bruce has no idea what did he do to deserve it…

“I’m gonna knock you up,” he mumbles quietly, “gonna put my baby in you, everyone will look at you and know that I fucked you so good…”

“Yes, yes, Bruce,” Clark mewls, face buried in the sheets, “do it, please!”

Bruce dips his nails hard into Clark’s invulnerable skin when his knot swells. Orgasm nearly shreds him to pieces as his omega’s body milks his dick, not a drop going to waste even though he is already full of alpha’s semen, it feels _so good…_

They rest on the bed, connected, holding hands.

“I think that’s it,” Clark whispers after a while. Bruce responds with a tired _mhmm_ and adds: “That better be our son cause I nearly passed out” while nuzzling Clark’s nape.

“So you want a boy after all?” Clark asks softly.

 _I had a boy,_ Bruce thinks. Old and new guilt piles up instantly in his core. He should not want it, should he? It would be like erasing _him._ Replacing. “As long as the pup is healthy, whatever,” he says, firmly cutting up the discussion before it has a chance to really begin. Clark understands. He always understands.  

They bathe together in silence, lost in soft caresses and delicate kisses, and then fall asleep in fresh sheets. It is the night of full moon: both of them dream strange dreams of lives that could have been, ones where they know each other but never get together, where one of them dies and comes back from the grave, where they rule the world and let themselves be ruled, distant planets, made up events. Sometimes they both have children, there is friendship between them, other times – mutual pining with no happy ending, longing looks shared in the ballroom and in a spaceship and by a round table. But they always wear capes. They are always together, finding each other in every lifetime. Side by side, across galaxies.

\---

Clark promised himself that he will not take a peek for seven days. Work load at the Planet caused by his absence kept his mind busy, yet his resolve crumbled after just five. When he saw what was going on inside of him, he had to take a seat. “I think we made it,” he said to Ma on the phone, giddy with excitement. He did not tell her everything – at such an early stage things could still go horribly wrong. She promised to send her prayers every waking hour. He promised to watch out for himself. That being said, he never backed up when Superman was needed.

Bruce did not want to know any details until three weeks have passed. So now, on the twentieth first day, Clark is on his way to Gotham, smiling so hard that strangers on the street give him odd looks.

Bruce is sitting in the cave, trying his best to look like he is not waiting for the news – good or bad, he is probably prepared for both, but definitely not for what he is about to hear. Of course, Clark sees right through him, but he lets the man have his illusions about being enigmatic.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he says as he walks out from the elevator. “Slow day in Gotham City?”

“Not even close,” Bruce grunts, typing something on the computer. Clark kisses his cheek. “Brought you something,” he says and drops a brown paper bag on his lap.

Bruce frowns a little. “Are these pretzels?” He asks and opens it. Inside, there is something that is certainly not pretzels. Bruce gets out a pair of baby shoes, looking at Clark with a mix of uneasiness and reluctant happiness.

“Dig deeper, there’s another thing in there,” Clark says, nearly shaking from the thunderstorm of emotions. At this point, his face really hurts from smiling. A second pair of baby shoes shows up in Bruce’s large palm.

“Holy shit,” the alpha mutters quietly.

“The sire of my children shouldn’t use a language like that,” Clark says.

“Children.” Bruce points out. Clark nods.

The cave is very, very silent.

“Wow.” Bruce’s voice never was this squeaky.

“You’re freaking out,” Clark barks out a nervous laughter. It suddenly hits him that yeah, he has been low-key freaking out for the past three weeks, too. Bruce gets up from his seat and gives him a hug that is part _I love you so much,_ part _oh good god, what have we done._

“I never thought there’d be two,” Bruce says, voice strangely distant.

“Me neither,” Clark pats his back firmly, “but you were always an overachiever.” At that Bruce snorts with laughter, bringing Clark even closer. They giggle until they are breathless, shocked, and a little pale. Happy. So happy.


	6. Chapter 6

4-5 weeks

“Bruce. Bruce. _Bruce.”_ He wakes up abruptly, his fight or flight instinct taking over. Good thing it is Clark who is looming over him, otherwise Bruce might have thrown a punch. “What? Something wrong?” Dread pokes at his heart with its ice cold claw. Clark looks like he is shocked by something. “I think I can hear their heartbeats,” he whispers with devotion. Bruce has no idea what does it mean. “Who? What are you talking about?” Clark giggles nervously. “Okay, you just woke up so I’m gonna forgive you. I am talking about _them,”_ he says and points at his belly. The sudden news is what makes Bruce straighten up and turn on the bed lamp. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Clark nods eagerly. “At first I didn’t know what was making that noise. I thought it was something outside. Like a hum or a buzz… But then I recognized beating. It’s about time, right?”

“Yeah,” Bruce agrees. Truth be told, he often feels small around Clark. Powers or not, he could never be like him: there is an inherent vice in his soul, one he has learned to live with a long time ago. It is possible though that he has never felt _this_ small in the presence of something much greater than him. It is not about being close to an alien god; it is witnessing a real miracle. “This is…” he rubs at his face, trying to chase the drowsiness away, “surreal if I’m being honest.” Clark takes his hand and kisses the slightly rugged knuckles. “They’ve really settled down in there. I was scared that...” he sighs heavily, eyes closed. “It’s just really, really great to hear them.”

“Come here,” Bruce pats the bedding beside him invitingly. Clark happily obliges. “Show me where.” Their bond has never felt this strong. The initial doubts they have had become lesser, distant. Clark places Bruce’s index finger on his abdomen, just a bit to the left side. “Here,” he says. “One heart beats a little faster than the other one. God, they’re so tiny. Unbelievable.” Being able to see every detail on Earth, fly, and lift impossible weights does not seem to faze Clark as much as the sound of human heartbeat does. The look on his face is softer than cotton. In contrast, Bruce’s throat tightens almost painfully. He brings their foreheads together, keeping his hand in the exact same spot. Babies. They are having babies. “Sorry for waking you up,” Clark murmurs. “Wanted to share this with you.”

“No reason to apologize. Are you gonna stay up?”

“No, I’m too sleepy.” Bruce immediately turns the light off; fatigue overtakes the excitement. Their spooning position is close to perfection. Bruce gets a hold of Clark’s breast, gives it a gentle squeeze and frowns. “They’re swollen,” Clark smirks when he feels the exploratory touch. “Enjoy it while you can. Pretty soon I’m gonna get huge." Bruce hums. “Think I’ll manage.”

 “Twins, Bruce. When I say huge, I mean enormous.”

“And I say it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“What makes you so sure, hmm?”

Bruce leans down so he can whisper very quietly to Clark’s ear: “I’m Batman.” That earns him an elbow to the stomach, followed by a heavy sigh of frustration. Still worth it.

\---

There are moments when Clark forgets about it: when the article has to go to print in 5 minutes and he has that one perfect word stuck on the tip of his tongue. When he tries to help the victims of a car collision to get out of the wreck without causing any further damage. When he takes the tube and spaces out, numbed by the repetitive motion. A minute or two passes by and he remembers again. It still feels as incredible as that first peek. He always touches his belly at the realization, trying to stop himself from grinning. Once Lois caught him mid-grin during a meeting. She is better at controlling her facial expression, but her eyes were smiling just as hard as he was.

Clark flies above the clouds without putting any effort into it. Seems like the overwhelming happiness is enough to make him reach the sky. It is real, it is happening. One day he will show his children just how beautiful the Earth can be. He will do it because they will be here. They already are. Clark is full of life, excited by the new role that somehow feels familiar, like returning to a childhood home after years of wandering around the world. He is light, lovestruck, ready to… Ready to…

If passersby did not attribute the strange noise behind the dumpster to a raccoon, they would be the first people to know that Superman has more human attributes than they were lead to believe; that is to say, he vomits just like every mere mortal does.

\---

“I think it’s the smells,” he says to Lois, “mostly smells. Traffic fumes are the worst. Gasoline. And tuna. I caught a whiff of a guy eating a tuna sandwich and nearly puked right there on his shoes.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of flying?” Lois sounds concerned.

“No, flying is fine. I’m fine, believe me.”

“Well, you do look pretty great. I don’t remember seeing you with that much color in your cheeks.” Clark smiles shyly at the compliment. “It’s like you just had a margarita and an orgasm,“ Lois teases, clearly pleased with herself. “Anyway,” Clark will not give her the satisfaction, “I don’t know how am I suppose to survive the Christmas Eve. I don’t want to announce you-know-what with a… barf.”

“Your mom will be thrilled to hear about the double trouble regardless of the barf.”

“I know Ma will be happy. I’m worried about Alfred’s reaction.” Lois tilts her head, curious: “What do you mean? He doesn’t know yet?”

“No. Bruce wanted to keep it from him for as long as possible. And that’s why I’m worried,” he sighs, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, Alfred is a charming man but it’s so freaking hard to read him. I have no idea how’s he gonna react.”

“Don’t sweat. Judging by his dedication to the Waynes, it’s safe to assume he’ll be pleased to hear that the heirs are coming. Heralded by a barf at the Christmas table.”

“Please, stop saying barf.”

“Who’s gonna barf?” Jenny arrives out of nowhere, carrying a tray of gingerbread lattes. Each one of them is like liquid diabetes: sweet, spicy, topped with whipped cream, syrup, and sprinkles. Clark’s stomach churns dangerously. “No one,” he says with a forced smile, trying desperately to hold his breath and avoid the sugary smell.

\---

Bruce is worried that they have made the decision too fast. A year of dating and two children on the way. Insane. Given the nature of their lives, their bond is truly one of a kind, but it is all happening so quickly his brain has a hard time catching up. There are so many changes ahead of them. Sometimes the prospect feels good, comforting even – the alpha inside of him radiates with pride and satisfaction whenever Clark is around – claimed, glowing like never before. It is only when Bruce is alone that the horrible thoughts start to plague his mind. So he works even more, puts on the suit even more often, pushes himself to the limit, and falls asleep in Clark’s welcoming arms every night, no matter if it means just an hour or two spent together. He cannot deal with separation the way he used to; it makes him too anxious to function properly. Of course he knew life would never be the same, but somehow he did not come to the conclusion that _he_ himself would never be the same. Does anyone even notice?

“They’re in Ireland. The Interpol confirmed it today.” Gordon frowns angrily while cleaning his glasses. “God damn it. I really thought we got them this time.”

“We scared them,” Bruce says through the voice modulator, circling the bat signal slowly. “They’re panicking. They’ll make mistakes. The Amsterdam transfer won’t go smoothly.”

“That means the feds are taking over the case,” Gordon’s chuckles bitterly. “The bastard from Washington had the nerve to thank me for an early Christmas gift. Each year they are getting worse, I swear.” Bruce stays silent. They have been in a situation like this before, many times. Only vigilantism can efficiently disobey higher authority. He already has a plan on how to interrupt the drug deal in Amsterdam: all it takes is some travelling. “They’ve changed, don’t you think?” Gordon asks out of the blue. “Criminals never change, Jim.” Gordon gives him a wistful look and shakes his head. “I don’t mean criminals. I’m talking about the people in power. They act differently since the Superman.”

 _Clark._ The one who wakes up first. The omega who spent the entire evening throwing up in the toilet after smelling grease on Bruce’s clothes. The god who’s biggest dream is to have a baby. His baby.

Bruce cannot go to Europe to stop the drug deal. There is a cozy house in Telluride waiting for him, Clark, Alfred, and Martha to arrive soon. A giant tree decorated in white and gold ornaments stands in the living room. The wine cellar is full. Fridge is filled with food. They will have a merry little Christmas without lifting a finger. Bruce made all the reservations himself, ensuring that they are going to be safe and comfortable. On Christmas Eve, they will have a pleasant dinner. Martha will learn that they are expecting twins. Clark will beam with joy, keeping one hand on his lower belly when he thinks no one is watching. Alfred… Alfred will find out he is going to be a grandfather, and maybe for once Bruce will not be a disappointment, but the man he was always supposed to be: a real leader of a pack.

Going to Amsterdam would look a lot like an escape. If Bruce is changed, then Batman is going to change too. And that is what frightens him the most.

“He’s here to stay,” he says confidently. “Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Gordon studies his masked face closely, looking for any sign of dishonesty, “do you know him?”

 _Do you know him,_ not _have you met him._ “You shouldn’t ask about my connections, Jim. It’s dangerous.” Gordon snorts – half entertainment, half cynicism. “See, I never know how it’s going to be with you. All these years and you still surprise me. You sound careful. Can’t remember the last time you were careful.”

 So someone noticed. Another thing that frightens Bruce way more than it should.

\---

The view from the living room is breathtaking. San Sophia Mountain Range is covered in snow, just like the old forest surrounding the mansion. A photograph of this place could be featured on a Christmas card.

“It’s perfect,” Clark kisses Bruce sweetly, arms winded around his alpha’s neck. “Glad you like it,” Bruce says. “Sleeping in your parents’ bedroom would be awkward.”

“Don’t be like that. We could always sleep in the barn. In the hay,” Clark’s gaze wanders slowly from Bruce’s eyes to his lips, “do everything we’d normally do in the bedroom.” Bruce looks around to make sure they are alone. Fortunately Martha and Alfred are outside, taking their time to drink in the view. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty omega,” he lowers his voice invitingly, grabbing Clark by the hips. They make out just a little; now might not be the right time to take things further. “So… you’re happy?” Bruce asks when their lips part. Clark’s smile nearly blinds him. “Of course I’m happy. You make me happy,” he gives Bruce a peck on the cheek, cradling his face gently. “The beans are very happy, too.”

“I’m not calling them that.”

“But they really do look like beans!” Bruce rolls his eyes and changes the subject: “Are you feeling okay though?”

“I’m good. Haven’t puked in twenty four hours, so yay. Fingers crossed is stays this way because I’m gonna eat a house.”  

“Good plan,” Bruce approves. “I’ll go get the rest of our stuff. Fix me some coffee, will you?”

“Sure,” Clark agrees and gives Bruce a sharp smack on the butt. This day better hurry up and end already because he is horny as hell.   

\---

Dinner passed by in a comfortable, if a bit silent atmosphere. Clark is giddy with excitement, almost jumping on his chair while waiting for everyone to finish off their meals. Ma looks at him proudly, trying her best to hide the fact that she knows about the pregnancy. Alfred is definitely suspecting something. Only Bruce seems like his usual self.

“I believe a toast is in order,” Alfred says. “Oh, dear me, your glass is empty,” he hurries to pour some of the excellent Château Pétrus that Clark has been avoiding the whole evening. “Actually,” Clark stops him quickly, ”uh, we would like to tell you something before the toast.” Bruce shifts in his seat, not looking at anybody. Martha can barely contain herself, and Alfred wears an expression of polite interest.

In retrospect, they should have rehearsed that part. “We agreed on the no presents rule but there’s one that’s… kinda already here, so…” He catches Bruce’s hand under the table. Looks like he will have to do all the talking. “I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have twins.”

A second goes by in dead silence, interrupted only by the crackling fireplace and the wind blowing behind the windows. And then Martha _howls._ “I knew it!” She gets up from her seat and runs to give them a hug. “I knew you’d have more than one pup! That’s how it always goes with alphas and omegas!” Her joy is all Clark can process at the moment. His heart is beating like crazy when he turns around to check up on Alfred’s reaction: he was expecting a small smile, some form of stoic congratulations, but Alfred…

Alfred cries.

It looks like Bruce is as surprised as he is – none of them is the greatest when it comes to handling emotions. After a long moment, Bruce moves from Martha’s tight embrace, unusually clumsy, to put a hand on his guardian’s shoulder. What he gets in return is another hug that is oddly desperate, full of longing despite the merry occasion. Clark can hear a tearful whisper: “I’m so proud, sonny,” and perhaps it is for the best that they did not rehearse anything because that is just too freaking much.

“Oh, baby, do you need a tissue?” Martha’s loving tone is not making things easier right now. “It’s the hormones,” Clark whines, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of his shirt.

\---

“You smell pregnant,” Bruce nuzzles against Clark’s neck seductively, dressed in a fluffy bathrobe. The master bedroom is spacious and cozy thanks to a large fireplace. They are able to see the snow falling lazily in the dark through a skylight above the bed. Everything seems ready for romance. “You are drunk,” Clark points out with a smile. To be fair, every human on Earth would probably get drunk on the amount of cognac his little family has consumed in the last couple of hours. “Celebration,” Bruce sucks on Clark’s skin right where the neck meets the shoulder, one of his hands slowly travelling down. “God, you smell so good…”

“Please tell me you’re hard.” Clark is past the point of trying to play it coy. He had to suffer through the entire day of major emotional distress: all that he wants is to get some loving and go to sleep. Bruce’s robe gets tossed on the floor in a second. “Hooray,” Clark gasps, grabbing at alpha’s throbbing erection, “Santa got me exactly what I wanted.” Bruce snorts into his ear. “You are impossible,” he purrs and finds his lips. A newly formed portion of slick drips from Clark’s entrance and he whimpers wantonly, full of deeply physical need. He loves this, loves having a real alpha between his legs, loves carrying his babies and being bonded to him. Bruce fucks him a little too hard to stay completely quiet. Clark cannot help himself: a few weak moans escape his mouth before Bruce shuts them down with his heavy palm. He bites down on Clark’s ear as he swells and comes, but does not stop thrusting.  _Oh shit_ goes through Clark’s head, his eyes widening: it is one of his favorite tricks that Bruce performs way too rarely. Getting fucked with a fully swollen knot gives him an almost painful stretch. He comes untouched, his legs drifting up a bit against his will, his soul temporarily in another dimension. Bruce looks at him fondly, face slightly red from effort. “You’re my life,” Clark whispers weakly, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. Four heartbeats pulsate in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!


	7. Chapter 7

9 weeks

Clark is half awake when he hears Bruce entering the apartment. He smiles sleepily and hides his face into the pillow, waiting for the familiar scent to fill the bedroom and for a calloused hand to caress his back. It is very early in the morning. Maybe they are going to have a quickie before Bruce falls asleep and cuddle some more until Clark has to get up for work. _Mmm,_ he hums contentedly. _Sounds like a nice plan._

But nothing goes according to the plan he came up with in his head. Clark, suddenly alarmed, uses his super senses to identify the intruder. Fortunately, the person who is currently rummaging through the kitchen is not a foe. “Alfred?...” He says with disbelieve, putting on a bathrobe over pyjamas. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning,” Alfred greets him like they are in a perfectly normal situation. He is wearing an apron that is definitely not Clark’s, heating some milk on the stove and… preparing breakfast it seems. “Master Bruce was unable to visit you last night. I’m here to run some errands.”

“Is he okay?” Clark asks, worried to the bone. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing out of ordinary. Don’t worry about him, please,” Alfred pours milk into a bowl that is filled with various types of grains, “your life is stressful enough.” When Clark remains unconvinced, he adds: “Master Bruce is a big dog. Please sit down and enjoy your breakfast, sir.”

“He’s my mate, I shouldn’t…” Clark takes a closer look at the bowl in front of him, “what is that?”

“Full grain cereal with crushed walnuts, chia seeds, almonds,  goji berries, mango and coconut shreds,” Alfred replies. “I’m also making some toasts with boiled eggs and mashed avocado. And orange juice. Would you like some decaf tea as well?” It is odd how easily Alfred moves around the kitchen. It feels like he is one of those people who never get lost – the surroundings simply adjust to them. “I, uhm, yes… I guess,” Clark is a bit lost. “Look Alfred, this is very sweet of you… But I don’t want you to feel like you have to work for me now that Bruce and I are… We....”

“Spare me the lecture about how you can take care of yourself, sir,” Alfred puts a pot of tea on the table. Clark does not own a teapot of any kind.  “We’re a pack now. I intend to look after you and the pups until the day this old man’s body gives out. Now please eat while the milk is still warm.”

Clark feels like he should oppose harder, like he is expected to decline because it is somehow impolite to accept help. Then he remembers how secretive Bruce was, and that his pregnancy does not affect only the two of them. Someone else was also dreaming of having a family. “Thank you,” he says, “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve done some shopping…”                                                                               

“Yeah, I noticed…” Clark looks at the brown bags piling on the floor. “You’re eating for three now, master Clark. We can’t be sure if sunlight is enough to sustain your organism during pregnancy. It’s about time to introduce you to a proper diet.”

“I’ve been eating well…” He has been, yes – at least compared to what he used to eat before they started trying for a baby – but he really hopes that Bruce did not say anything about that one time when Clark had a massive craving for mozzarella sticks in the middle of the night. Or that time with tacos. And the other time with a jar of pickles. Okay, so maybe his diet is not that great. “I do have cravings though.”

“Cravings are perfectly fine, it’s the meals that I’m concerned about. I’d like to drop in around three times a week,” Alfred continues, preparing the avocados to get them peeled and mashed. “Shopping, cooking, whatever you need, sir. I’ll also take care of some of your small obligations…” He pauses, looking at the framed pregnancy test with two beautiful, bold stripes. “I wanted to keep it as a souvenir…” Clark mumbles. “Cleaning is on me now,” the butler continues easily, “I must say that I’d like to make a few changes… ”

\---

“…and then he said he’s going to get my laundry done with some hypoallergenic detergent,” Clark says to Lois when they meet at the office, “because the one I’m using is apparently lethal to unborn babies. Don’t get me wrong, it was sweet and all but I kinda felt like I’m doing everything wrong, d’you know what I mean? I eat crappy food, I don’t know anything about chemicals…”

“I get it. I’d be pretty pissed too. But he’s worried and wants to help,” Lois says. “Besides, he’s just a grandpa. What’s the worst he could do?” Clark glowers at her for a second. “Oh. Right. I think I need more coffee.”

“How about a raw ginger and banana smoothie?” Clark picks up two plastic cups with straws from his unusually large lunch bag. “It’s suppose to prevent my morning sickness but Alfred made some for you as well. By the way, he loved your piece about Sudan.”

“Did he?” Lois takes a sip. “You know what? I’m liking this situation more and more.”

“Wait ‘til you see what I’m having for lunch. You’re gonna be so jealous,” Clark smiles.  

They did not get a chance to eat lunch together. A sudden earthquake paralyzed southern California: Superman was there to help.  The little heartbeats were there with him.

\---

Bruce is getting impatient. They are already fifteen minutes late for their first meeting with the doctor. He is waiting at the Wayne Memorial parking lot; Clark already has a file there under the name Cameron White. The prenatal care department has been paid well in advance to keep everything under wraps. The visit was scheduled for late evening – perfect time for Bruce and Clark to be done with their jobs and to avoid the day crowd. But Clark is late and Bruce is sick with worry. He followed the news throughout the day, watching Superman working hard alongside paramedics, police and firemen, and he felt horrible because he wanted him to stop – stop so that their children could be safe. It is as selfish as it is frustrating, because he cannot ask him to do it. if Bruce was in his place, he would work until the obvious signs prevented him from putting on the suit. Only Clark can choose the right moment, and judging by the stream of news on Bruce’s phone, the time has not come yet.

Finally Bruce hears familiar footsteps coming from somewhere behind his back. He has not realized up until now just how much tension he has been holding in his body. “You’re late,” he barks, fully aware that he should have known better. “I was busy,” Clark snaps right back. When he is tired, he looks like an empty lighthouse. “Come on, the doctor’s waiting,” Bruce avoids his gaze and goes straight to the elevator, otherwise he is going to start a war. All that effort, stress, toxic fumes… How can Clark expose himself and their babies like this. “Remember that we aren’t suppose to know they’re twins,” he says when the elevator goes up. “Of course I remember. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Clark sounds equally angry and broken, biting the inside of his cheek like he is stopping himself from spitting what he would really like to say. “You could’ve avoided being late,” Bruce reminds him. “You weren’t there,” Clark snarls through clenched teeth. It is more of a jab than an accusation but it hits Bruce right where it hurts the most: the pride of an alpha and the powerlessness of a mortal. If anything can prove Clark’s exhaustion, it is definitely that kind of talk. His nerves must be fried.

It should not be like this. The first ultrasound was suppose to be a joyful event; they should not boil with negativity, not being able to even glance at each other. Bruce sighs. It is about time for him to be a safe haven for someone closest to him. After counting from one to ten and from ten to one in his head, he slowly puts his arm around Clark’s shoulder. The security footage is going to be scraped anyway. Clark leans into the touch, searching for reassurance in his alpha’s warm embrace. “It was awful,” he whispers. “You did good,” Bruce kisses his temple gently, “you’re here now. You’re okay.”

“Pups are okay too,” he says, suddenly smiling. “Hey… You’re going to meet them for the first time.”

“Yeah. Think they’re going to like me?”

“I think you’re gonna get along just fine.”

“Should’ve worn better clothes.”

“True. That Armani is so last year.”

“How would you know, country boy?”

The elevator opens with a quiet clang. Doctor Pérez greets them cheerfully in the hall. “We’re so sorry for being late,” Clark rushes to apologize, “it’s entirely my fault, I…”

“It’s all right,” the woman says with a genuine smile. “Thank you for your time,” Bruce cuts in, turning on his professional charm, “we really appreciate your dedication. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work.”

“The pleasure is all mine, mister Wayne. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” She opens the door to the examination room invitingly. Under the pretence of checking his messages, Bruce scans the place in search of wiretaps. All clear. Meanwhile Clark answers a string of very intimate questions, then some more about the pregnancy: “What were your first symptoms?”

“Uhmm, nausea, I think,” he says, brow slightly furrowed, “I’m better now but it was pretty bad at first.”

“Fatigue, dizziness, soreness?”

“No, not really.”

“Any bleeding or spotting since the last heat?”

“No."

“And how’s your appetite nowadays?”

“I’d say good, very good even.”

“Sex drive?”

 _Off the roof,_ Bruce thinks. Not that he is complaining. “Same as usual?” Clark answers shyly, ignoring his alpha’s faint smirk. They move on to check Clark’s height and weight, and before they know it the doctor gets the ultrasound ready to go. That is when Bruce’s phone vibrates – it is a notification from the computer: _subject stopped transmitting. Searching for signal…_   The subject in question is Chambers, Gordon’s man disassembling the drug cartel from the inside, currently hiding somewhere in Eastern Europe with the rest of the gang. He had a chip implanted in his neck so the team could always locate him via satellite.

_Searching…_

Doctor Pérez encourages them to get comfortable.

_Searching…_

No signal can only mean one thing. Bruce clenches his jaw.

_Searching…_

“Hey,” Clark’s gentle voice distracts him suddenly, “is everything okay?” He hesitates for a moment, then puts the phone back into his pocket. “Yeah. Small problems with the European liaisons. It’ll be fine though.” Bruce’s mouth is dry when Clark takes his hand and squeezes it lightly. There is nothing he can do now for the poor guy, is there? Perhaps the higher powers decided to terminate Gordon’s operation now that it went to hell in a handbasket; exposing the double agent would save them some paperwork, and they are not actually known for caring about the collateral damage overseas. Unless something happened that Bruce is not aware of yet. Is it very dark outside? Did Gordon turn on the signal? Maybe they need him now, they need him to find Chambers wherever that might be. All he needs is to get to the cave. The time does not work in his favor…

 “That’s it,” the doctor says to Clark, smiling gently at the screen, “show yourself, little one.”

…it could also be a malfunction of the software and he is overreacting but there is a life at stake…

“And… there!” Bruce focuses on the screen. The image looks like nothing in particular. He does not know where is he suppose to look. Chambers is probably bleeding to death right now. “Hold on a second,” Pérez leans in a little. “I believe that… Yes. There’s a second one,” she looks at them with some sort of a pride, “congratulations, you’re having twins!”

“Oh wow,” Clark plays his role almost perfectly. “I mean, I kind of expected that, you know? Alphas and omegas, right honey?”

The image is just a mesh of black and white. Bruce feels nothing. “I… don’t see anything really,” his chuckle was meant to be endearing but came out as odd and fake. “Oh, don’t worry! Let me show you. Here’s the first one,” she makes a circular motion around a black blob, her tone sweet as candy, “and here’s the second… See how they look a little like teddy bears?” He does not. It is just a spot. A formless, grayish mess. The time does not stop. The world is not shattering to pieces. But then Clark gasps loudly: “It’s moving!” He beams, completely captured by…

…a tiny hand waving. The entire shape wiggles suddenly, like it is trying to get into a more comfortable position. “Here’s the head,” the doctor points out, “belly, hand, and if you watch closely you can see…”

“Feet,” Bruce squeals. “Precisely! As for the second one, oh, that one has its back to us. Here, can you see the spine? Now, if you give me just a second…”

A strange, whooshing noise echoes in the room. The heart rate is steady and oddly muted. Strange in its familiarity. Bruce is drowning in it: the sound builds up around him like a cocoon, closes over his head and wraps him tightly. He really wishes he could say something.

\---

“Hey, mind if I drive us back home?“ Clark asks after leaving the examination room. “Yeah, no,” Bruce hands him the keys immediately. Everything feels distant, like he is watching the world from behind a glass wall – merely a spectator in front of an aquarium. “What were you worried about earlier?”  

“What?”

“When you were checking your phone?” Clark suggests. “For a second you looked like you were ready to jump out of a window. What was that about?” Chambers. He forgot about him. Bruce checks the latest notifications: _Signal detected. Proceed to monitor the subject._ So it was just a temporary malfunction after all. “Nothing,” Bruce says quietly, “nothing important.”

“Okay,” Clark gives him a weird look. They get into the car without exchanging another word. “Uhm, by the way, can we make a small detour? I’m starving for something unhealthy.” Bruce nods. “I’m gonna call Alfred and let him know, all right?” Bruce nods again. The streets of Gotham are busy as always, but to him they are silent. The conversation between Clark and Alfred over speakerphone barely reaches him through the cotton-like barrier that seems to shield him from reality. “Hey Alfred, we just got out… Yes, everything is great… We have pictures!... The doctor says they’re di, you know, dizygotic?... Yes, two amnion sacks, exactly… Yeah, we don’t know if they’re gonna be identical... Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. We’re all good. Don’t wait up for us, okay? I have to get something first… Yeah, see you!”

Bruce knows these places better than anyone else, but now they all feel alien and distant. He would probably get lost if he got out of the car. Thank goodness he does not have to move; all that he wants is to stay immobile for as long as possible. Music on the radio is soothing, so he focuses on it for distraction while Clark gets some coffee and a box of donuts. Instead of driving them home, he makes a turn to the Gotham’s shoreline. “Come on, let’s get some air!” Bruce does not feel like it but he follows after Clark and takes a seat on a bench facing the ocean. “Here,” a coffee cup and a blueberry donut show up in his hands, “just don’t tell Alfred, okay? The mother hen wouldn’t approve of that.” He is not hungry, so he takes a sip of coffee. It burns his mouth a little. The donut smells pretty good; the first bite reminds Bruce that he has not eaten anything since lunch. He sighs, enjoying the salty breeze on his face and the gentle swoosh of waves. It grounds him in the moment. Finally he is able to look at Clark who is watching the cargo ships on the horizon, munching on donuts thoughtfully. Christ, he is beautiful: even in the dark his skin seems luminous. “Feeling better?” He asks Bruce, smiling encouragingly. “What do you mean? You’re the one who spent the entire day fighting against nature.”

“You know what I mean,” after a year of being together, Clark cannot be fooled easily anymore. “Alfred was ready to give you some tough love but I felt like you needed a moment.” And it worked. He knows Bruce enough to know what will work. The realization makes Bruce's heart blossom into a garden he has not entered in a very long time. “You’re the love of my life,” the words just roll out from his mouth like pearls on marble. Clark… laughs, almost choking on his coffee, tears in the corners of his eyes. Bruce pats him on the back. “You’ve never said anything like that before and now...” Clark cannot stop himself from chuckling. “It would be so much more touching if you didn’t have blue icing all over your chin!” Well, yes. He could eat more elegantly. Bruce wipes the icing away with the back of his hand. “I mean it. I also have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Bruce takes a deep breath, staring at the brown spot in Clark’s left eye, “I want to rebuild the mansion. I know we talked about buying something new but it doesn’t feel right. I belong there. It should be a home for my pack the way it was for generations. Do you agree? You don’t have to sell your place, I’d even prefer if…”

“Bruce,” Clark interrupts him. “I’d love that,” he says softly. “I love you and I really, _really_ want to kiss you right now.” This time it is Bruce who chuckles. “Not until we get home.”

“Then eat up! I want you to get fat and be like, at least half the size I’m gonna reach soon.”

“Quite possible with the way Alfred has been cooking lately.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give you the stinky eye when you eat junk,” Clark smiles and picks up another donut. “Go on, the last one is yours.”

Bruce bites down on the sugary dough, looks up at the moon and twinkling stars, and just for a second he allows himself to think that they are going to be all right. They will figure everything out step by step, just like all the parents usually do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who didn't drop this story even though the updates are so random. You can talk to me on my blog if you like: powerdadbatman.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the time to write something special for Clark's birthday (February 29th) so I've decided to at least post a short update. Our boy deserves some loving!

11 weeks

“You went out like _that_?” Bruce asks, mildly shocked. Clark just came back from a quick trip to the store – they were out of milk. He looks at himself closely: did he forget to put on pants or something? “Well, yeah,” he says when everything about his appearance seems to be the same as always. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Clark. I think it’s time for you to take a closer look in the mirror.”

At the start he genuinely does not understand what Bruce is talking about: he is wearing some plain ol’ jeans and a white, lite sweater he bought on sale last fall… “Holy cow,” now he sees it. Them, to be precise. “Exactly,” Bruce grunts, “I’m surprised you didn’t cause a car crash.” Clark has not shown any visible signs of pregnancy until now: his breasts are fuller, perkier, nipples more prominent, and the sweater he wears is just a little bit on the wrong side of see-through. “Oh Jesus,” the facepalm cannot express how embarrassed he feels, “now I know why the cashier was looking at me like that.” Bruce hums, unimpressed, and gets back to his tablet. “Really?” Clark asks, slightly hurt.

“What?”

“You’re not even a little bit jealous?”

“I’m _concerned_ about your fashion choices.”

“So this does nothing to you,” Clark sits on the verge of the bed, close enough to give Bruce a nice view. “You need to get ready for work,” Bruce takes a peek anyway. It is hard to look away from the soft curves... They would feel so good in his hands… Clark pets his alpha’s thighs through the covers, flexing and straining the fabric even more. He could rip it off easily even though his chest is now more firm. Succulent. Clark’s smell is as bountiful as his new body; Bruce can feel it on the roof of his mouth… “ _Hng_. All right.” The omega smiles and straddles him triumphantly, getting rid of the clothing that caused all of this. Bruce cups the left breast and nearly moans. It feels better than he imagined. “So, d’you like them?” Clark asks, already out of breath, pressing insistently on Bruce’s crotch. A second hand kneading on his other breast is the best answer possible. Bruce takes his time, playing with them, mashing them up, pinching, squeezing, finally putting one in his mouth. Clark gasps for air – he has never been this sensitive in that area. He unzips the fly of his jeans and grabs at his throbbing dick, moaning when Bruce very lightly bites on one of the nipples. Then he puts his face between Clark’s breasts and just… inhales, palming his ass slowly.

“You know what?” Clark runs his fingers through the salt and pepper hair. “Hmm?” Bruce purrs contentedly, eyes closed. The words whispered into his ear make him go from a little bit interested to diamond-hard in a matter of seconds: “I want you to fuck me and come all over my tits.”

He gets exactly what he asked for, with jeans and underwear barely pulled down to his knees, laying on his side as Bruce thrusts hard and fast. “Oh god,” he whimpers, feeling the temperature rising in his loins. Slick is flowing out of him like a stream. Even his cheeks feel hot; it is like he is in heat again. “Look at you,” Bruce growls, keeping the relentless tempo, “carrying my litter like a good omega should… “ He grabs a handful of Clark’s softest flesh. “Are these mine?”

“Yes,” Clark strokes himself, desperate to get off. “And your big ass, is it mine?”

“Yes! All of me,” Clark pulls him down for a kiss, “make me come, make me come, I’m so…” He squirms when the orgasm hits. Bruce does not give him any time to cool off: he is suddenly on his back, staring at the red, deliciously bloated cock, ready to shoot streaks of hot cum all over him. Clark takes it into his mouth without thinking, then remembers their little deal. The heady smell of musk, semen and his own peachy scent makes him dizzy. Bruce’s sticky load lands on his swollen, pinky breasts, now wet with the alpha’s sperm and saliva. Clark feels just the way he did right after the last heat: claimed and wanted. And, to be frank… kind of sexy.

“You better use those blockers in abundance,” a few long minutes have passed until Bruce got his ability to speak back. “If not, you’re gonna raise some eyebrows at the office.”

“Shame. I love smelling like having sex with you.”

“Oh, I bet you have a lot of fans of that smell at work.” There is an unexpected hint of bitterness in his words. “Honeeey…”

“Don’t start,” Bruce grumbles, realizing his mistake. “Baby. Sugar pie,” Clark smiles obnoxiously wide, “you _are_ jealous!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” They cuddle a little more before Clark really has to go. He gets three goodbye kisses: first on the lips and then two on the stomach, one for each pup.


	9. Chapter 9

13 weeks

“You’re showing.” There is a soft kind of reverence in Bruce’s voice. Twins measure close to five inches now. Each one of them has buds that one day will become teeth, a set of miniscule fingers, toes, eyelids; every detail has been laid out wonderfully by doctor Pérez and Kryptonian microscopic vision. Clark thinks he has some idea about the babies’ gender, but he chooses to keep quiet and wait until they are bigger. His belly is not as impressive as Bruce’s tone made it out to be: so far it is just a roll of fat. On a big man like Clark, rather than multiple pregnancy it suggests that maybe he should give up beer for a while. “I know! Amazing, right?” He presents it proudly nonetheless, pulling up his shirt. “Something will show up on a photo, it’s about time!” They have been taking pictures every week to follow the progress of Clark’s changing body. “Yeah. Is everything okay down there?” Bruce puts his hand on the small curve. “It’s all good. They’re wiggling and wobbling. Funny how they always get more active in the evening.” He wraps his arm around Bruce’s middle. “I wonder where did they get that from, these jumpy little bats.”

“Don’t call them that,” Bruce smirks anyway. “Oh, is ‘beans’ better all of a sudden?”

“...We really gotta choose the names soon.” Clark chuckles and kisses him sweetly. He has no idea if it is the hormones talking or simply the good mood in general, but he could swear there is something different about his alpha’s scent and the way he tastes: a little mild, more creamy, like a mug of warm milk before bed. “I have to go, love,” Bruce mutters into his mouth. “Is the party really that important?” Clark pouts, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m afraid so. Senator Williams-Ford will be there. She’s the one who lobbied for the protection of children’s privacy act two years ago. Hollywood moms love her. With some luck I'm gonna persuade her to work for my cause.” Bruce’s goal is to prevent the media from publicating photos of celebrities’ offspring, his reasoning based on the fact that adults usually have a choice if they want to be public personas or not, but their children? Not so much. Photographers will not take the pictures if they cannot sell them. They could even get a fee for attempting to do so if Bruce has his way.

Deep down, Clark knows it is wrong. Then he thinks about his pups and their little faces on the cover of every trash magazine from the east to the west coast, accompanied by lies and cheap shots at the latest famous target caught on DUI. His heart cannot take it. There are boundaries in the polite society, however the most successful paparazzi did not win this position by being polite and respectful people. Not to mention all of the ordinary citizens with cell phones who just happened to pass by the Wayne twins on the street. What if someone notices that they kind of look like Superman? He too got a taste of what it means to be a subject of public discussion. It is everyone’s right to express an opinion, even if it is unnecessary or downright harmful. Carrying the Wayne’s name with the possibility of developing super powers is like a sentence to a lifetime of voices judging their every move. That crowd does not even include individuals who would actively want to hurt them. The gallery of potential threats grows larger. Sometimes Clark catches himself on the verge of an anxiety attack. He tries to stay strong, remembering his own words spoken on that memorable autumn morning: _there’s more to it than fear._

He watches as Bruce puts on his evening suit and wonders what was it like for him: getting photographed constantly when the worst nightmare of his life was becoming reality. Just a child against dozens of flashlights. Small boy and harpies on a mission to make money on his tragedy. Thank goodness Alfred somehow stopped them from coming to the funeral. Still, Bruce’s grief was disturbingly well documented. Clark could pinpoint the exact moment when the child’s eyes went dark and the serious adult standing in front of him was born. “Were the reporters ever cruel to you?” He asks softly, focused on Bruce’s platinum cufflinks: they are marked with Thomas Wayne’s initials. “I’ve paid them no mind,” the alpha says indifferently and fixes his tie. He looks delicious; every inch the man Clark fell in love with at first sight. There is something satisfying about watching him getting dressed to perform for the crowd. This is the real cost of being famous: putting together pieces of fake personality that barely resembles your own, making sure that it is attractive enough to hold the audience’s interest, and creating a narrative you can use for your own private agenda. It takes a lot of self knowledge to act accordingly to the part without getting lost. Sometimes when Bruce is mentally not in a good place, he has trouble differentiating where the Bruce Wayne ends and the Batman begins, and if there is some space left for him being just himself, and who that person is exactly? That kind of crisis has not happened in a while. Everything seems to show that Bruce is embracing his next role: that of a father and the leader of a pack. Tonight the audience is going to receive a rehearsed part - Clark is getting the real deal. Bruce turns his eyes to him and smirks. “Why you’re looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Clark shrugs innocently but his mouth is watering. “You just look... so good.”

“You _really_ want me to ditch the party, don’t you?” He makes a step forward in his Italian suit, strutting with the air of cockiness that should be infuriating but instead, _god damnit_ , it is incredibly hot. Only mere centimeters separate them from rutting like wolves under the full moon. “Alfred is going to be here any minute now,” Clark licks his lips unconsciously, “I promised him that we’re gonna play chess tonight.”

“ _Mmm._ Chess. Just a heads up, Alfred knows how to cheat.”

“What makes you think that I don’t?”

“I thought boy scouts were suppose to be the shining examples of virtue.”   

“Yeah, about that,” Clark gently pats his belly, “mine was taken by some grumpy old alpha.”

“And he’d do it again,” Bruce finally kisses Clark on the lips, unable to hold himself back. “And again,” he whispers, slipping his hands underneath the omega’s shirt. The most tempting piece of clothing teases his senses: a bralette made from batiste and French lace that keeps Clark’s blossoming breasts in check. Perfect little example of modern craftsmanship that drives Bruce completely crazy. “You need to go now, you dog,” Clark chuckles. “Here,” he takes Bruce’s hand and guides it down his pants, right to the dripping entrance, “so you can think about me… and what's waiting for you at home.” Bruce makes small circles with his index finger around Clark’s hole, _god,_ it would be so easy to just bend over for him and get impaled on that big… “You gotta go,” he moans. Bruce retreats his hand suddenly. It is stained with Clark’s slick. “Thanks for the souvenir,” the naughty smirk does not leave his face. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

The car disappears into the woods. It is Clark’s turn to look in the mirror. Yesterday a middle-aged shooter terrorized a shopping mall in Kentucky. Superman got hit by a couple of bullets before he stopped the psychopath. At home, he noticed something weird as he was taking off the suit: a spot on his upper arm that looked like dirt… But how would dirt get in there? Nothing could prepare him for the horror of realization that it was a bruise.

\---

The talk with the senator went better than expected. He has got everything he needed. Just a few more pleasantries with the right people and Bruce will be ready to leave.

A trail of familiar scent stops him in his tracks. He scans the crowd closely, not really expecting to see the one he is looking for. How long has it been? Years, probably. Not that they have missed each other, no: everything between them remains unspoken. It is a tango after all.

A flash of naked skin catches his eye. Black silk dress exposes the entire back of a tall woman, sans for a string of diamonds running down her spine that keeps the outfit together. These are the real deal; the woman in question would never wear fakes.

She can feel Bruce’s relentless stare but does not turn around immediately (always the tease). Her elegant half-twirl does not manage to stop the time, not exactly, but turns it back somehow. She still looks like a film noir, from the red on her lips to the designer stilettos on her feet. The invitation for a drink does not need to be spoken: her smile says it all. Whatever it is that is between them, it never thrived on words. They pick up their dance right where they have left. No need for a cue or reconciliation.

They take their seats and place orders at the bar. Bruce made a deal with the bartender earlier this evening, so the guy knows what to pour into mister Wayne’s glass – it is the easiest couple of hundreds he will make all week. Selina asks for a Manhattan, eyes Bruce for a pretty long moment, then decides it is time to strike a conversation: “You’ve aged well.”

“Green smoothies and pilates,” Bruce deadpans. “When did you come back?” She raises her eyebrows a bit. “So you didn’t know? That’s new. Thought you’d follow my every move the minute I put my foot on the Gotham’s soil.” Years ago, he would. These days he was too busy to keep track on old flames… Friends? Foes? The two of them defied every label all the time. “What about your sentence?”

“Taken care of,” she points discreetly at the host of the party, a high-ranking diplomat. “Few favors here and there and now I’m free as a bird.” He highly doubts that these _favors_ were as simple as she wants him to think. The diplomat’s wife is wearing a very impressive ruby on her hand... “I’ve traveled for about a year or so, but… There’s no place like home.” Selina’s smirk has some bitterness around the corners. “Where have you been?” Bruce asks in serious tone that makes her giggle. “You really, _really_ have no idea what I’ve been up to, right? You’ve changed more than I thought, B.” She is absolutely right. “The alien invasion was a little distracting, you see. I’ve lost some very trusted employees,” he says. “Mhmm. How long ago was that? I think you’ve got some other distractions in your life now.” She takes a sip of her drink. “They say on the streets that Batman acts differently.”

“How so?” Selina does not even blink, just accepts the dare. “There was a time when he was branding people. But that changed as abruptly as it started. Some say he’s scared of the Superman. The GPD loves him more than ever though. Good guy working for the good cause.” She leans on her hand, watching him curiously. “He’s back with his old tricks. He shows up at parties and pretends that apple juice is whisky on rocks. He’s moving back to his childhood home. It tells me that he’s… better. That he’s healing. However… He didn’t look at my boobs. Not even once. I’m dying to meet this girl because boy,” she pauses dramatically, “her pussy must be diamonds.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Bruce says dryly. This is why they have never moved past the phase of the tango: Selina is not a bad girl – just an untrustworthy one. “Hey, it’s more than you’ve done for me,” her smile is quite cold. A sound of incoming text message prevents them from turning the conversation into an argument.

_Could u buy me a pastrami sandwich on ur way back? Love u!_

In that moment, Bruce wants to tell her everything. Tell her all about how he is happy and terrified at the same time, that he did not know he was capable of loving but now love flows freely whenever he opens his mouth. Describe to her how he have met Clark and that he is literally a gift from the stars that keeps on giving because they are going to have children and it is amazing and beautiful and overwhelming. He would do that if she was a friend, but he never knows for sure. “I have to go,” he says instead. “It was good to see you.”

“Leaving so soon? My, I take back what I’ve said,” she calls for the bartender to get another drink, “that girl must be a goddess.”

\---

Clark is slouching over the reconstruction plans when Bruce comes home. It is so odd to see him like that in this place. The glass house was supposed to be a fancy decoy, not a place to live. But here he is, the glowing pregnant omega, drinking herbal tea with honey while wearing pyjamas from H&M. Life is truly unpredictable. “Baby, you’re the best!” Bruce is greeted with a welcoming kiss: just when did that become the usual? Clark cradles his face lovingly, fingers caressing the temples. “How bad was it?”

“Not too bad.” Bruce puts a paper bag on the table. “What are you doing?"

“Oh, Alfred and I were talking about the nursery. I’d like to have my office close to the pups.”

“You do realize they won’t let you work in peace, right?”

“True, but it will be easier to keep an eye on them.” Clark takes a bite of the sandwich and moans. “ _Yes._ This is exactly what I wanted.”

“At your service,” Bruce smirks. “I gotta check something downstairs real quick. Don’t stay up too long.”

“I won’t, pooh bear. Promise.”

The computer says that Selina’s slate is clean. Almost _too_ clean. God only knows what kind of mess she got herself into. He feels guilty for not protecting her but then again, she despised being protected by anyone. Bruce gets ready to bed, thinking about spying on her for a week or two. Whatever she is connected to nowadays, it is certainly more dangerous than the little games played by the cat and the bat.

Clark is lying down on the bed, looking at something on his phone. “Not going out tonight after all?”

“No,” Bruce replies, “tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

“Great.” Clark lowers his voice. “Because I have been waiting, you know.” He spreads his legs wide. Bruce nearly gets a heart attack when he sees a fresh spot of slick on the pyjama bottoms. He loves that their sex can be so non-performative: face to face, with Clark’s t-shirt rolled up under his chin so Bruce can let himself be hypnotized with the way his breasts bounce. Slow, quiet, with the soft _ah ahs_ and without protection. He hides his face in the nook of Clark’s neck and inhales the most beautiful scent in the world. That trips him over the edge. A minute to breathe, and then he brings Clark to orgasm with his hand, nibbling gently at the prominent jaw. They are one. Four to be precise. “Are they alright?”

“Yeah,” Clark takes a peek even though he is tired. “I think you rocked them to sleep.”

“Good pups,” he says and kisses Clark’s cheek, ready to follow into the steps of their unborn children. “Hey… I wanna tell you something,” Clark whispers.

“What is it?”

“I think I know the baby’s sex. Just one though. The second one is still forming.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t it too early to know?” Clark rolls his eyes a little. “Well, no, I’m not sure because I’m not a doctor. But from what I’ve seen in the books… I mean, I might be wrong. Just tell me if you want me to say it.” Bruce is not really sure, but not knowing things drives him mad. “Yeah,” he has to clear his throat loudly. “Yeah, tell me.” Clark’s eyes crinkle in the dark like firecrackers on the 4th of July when he says:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“It’s a boy.”  


	10. Chapter 10

14 weeks

Second trimester has its perks: for instance, Clark does not feel nauseous anymore. Finally he can eat pretty much anything he desires. “You should focus more on a healthy weight gain,” doctor Pérez makes some notes in the chart. “Go easy with the training, alright? It’s okay to get bigger. Your pups need it.”

“Training?...” Clark mumbles. “I’m afraid it’s me,” Bruce cuts in, holding his hand a little too tight, “I like to keep myself in shape. I told Clark he doesn’t have to join me in the gym but it’s hard to change your habits just like that, you know?”

“Ye-yeah, uhmm… We like to exercise together.” What Clark has in mind right now is Bruce putting himself through the hoops every other morning while he prepares breakfast. Occasionally he will help him achieve his daily limitations with little encouragements, such as sweet kisses or a promise of a very hot shower. “Exercising is fine. Just don’t push yourself too hard. Your bump isn’t showing that much because of your abs. In the upcoming months, unsaturated fats and proteins will be your friends, mister Kent. Remember that. Carbs are fine too. Try to add about six hundred calories per day. Perhaps create a meal chart? Whatever helps you keep track on the calories intake.”  

“Yes, of course. I just burn calories very easily you see.” _Just by standing in the sun it seems._ “Please monitor your weight daily for the next two weeks,” the doctor orders. “We have to make sure it’s not a health problem that keeps you from putting on some pounds. Now, there’s something important I need to discuss with you.” She hands them identical brochures. “These days most of multiple pregnancies are delivered by c-section. It’s understandable that you might want to give birth naturally but you have to be prepared for every option. Personally, I advise you to go with the Caesarian. Please don’t get me wrong but you’re not going to give birth as easily as a twenty year old, especially to twins. C-section is a safer choice for you and for your pups.” Clark can feel his throat contract suddenly. He knows Bruce is thinking the same thing: _how will they perform a c-section on someone who is invulnerable?_ What the alpha does not know about is the faded bruise on Clark’s shoulder, now barely a discoloration. “I… I don’t know,” he says, “I always thought it’d be a natural birth. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

“You don’t have to make the decision right now,” the doctor’s voice is calm and soothing. “Take your time, read as much as you can. Well, maybe not the stuff on the Internet. If you have any questions, you can call me or send me an email anytime. It’s not my intention to scare you,” she looks at them with a smile. “So far everything looks great. The babies are developing wonderfully. Nothing gives me the slightest bit of concern. It’s going to be alright, mister Kent and mister Wayne.”

\---

Later that evening, despite the doctor’s advice, Clark searches for twin childbirth stories. “That’s not going to help,” Bruce scolds him. “Forgive me for freaking out at the prospect of c-section,” he snaps. It does not take long before Bruce stands in front of him. “Come on, let me in,” he asks gently. Clark makes some space on the couch, surprised when the alpha encourages him to rest on his chest. Now he is encircled by Bruce’s strong arms and legs, ensured by the kiss on the neck that he is loved and wanted. “I’m sure you can deliver them by yourself,” Bruce says. “Your cycle was nothing out of the ordinary. Your heats went smoothly. We’re going to do everything to make the natural birth happen.”

“Yeah, we don’t have much choice, do we?” Clark tries to relax and keep the laptop in place. He puts on a video from prenatal classes. A middle-aged midwife explains how oxytocin works. “Do you think I could give birth at home?”

“I’m not crazy about the idea,” Bruce hums, “but we could arrange it. Alfred definitely knows a thing or two about childbirth.”

“Ma could help too. She has spent her entire life on a farm.”

“You’re not a cow, Clark.”

“The pattern is the same, isn’t it?” He chuckles quietly to cover up the heavy sigh escaping his lungs. “I’m afraid the doctors will notice something’s… unusual. I… I don’t want them to be taken away from us.”

“I’d never let that happen.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Clark sighs deeply. “I’ve been hiding for so long I don’t know how to talk to the doctors.”

“Let me take care of that, okay?” Bruce kisses his temple. “If you really want to stay away from the hospital, we’ll find a way. But the pups look human. They _are_ human, Clark. It’s gonna be fine. Even if the doctors notice something, I can shut them up. It’s not like I didn’t do it before.”

“My big, scary alpha wolf,” Clark smiles. On the screen a very pregnant lady is preparing for labour with the help of a giant ball. “I’d like to attend these classes. Will you come with me?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you.” They watch the rest of the video in silence. Bruce puts his hand on Clark’s belly. “Do you still think it’s a boy? Pérez didn’t confirm it.”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure. The pup’s private parts look very different from the other’s though.” Clark puts his own hand on top of Bruce’s. How much more difficult it would be without the bond they share? For better or worse, they are in this together. In love. “You know I have to ask you about it,” Bruce murmurs into his ear. “I know, “Clark swallows. “I think it’s time.” He should tell him about the bruise as well but words are stuck in his mouth. He is going to miss the cape, that is for sure. The choice has been made. It is irreversible. “Are you going to teach him karate?” Clark asks to change the subject since he is dangerously close to bursting into tears. "If he wants to then yeah, sure. You’re going to teach him the real stuff, like how to take care of chickens.”

“It’d be good for us to have chickens actually. And a cow. And maybe a vegetable garden. We’re wasting such a huge piece of land, we should be ashamed of ourselves. Hey, what about an apple orchard?”

“Wayne Manor, the farm,” Bruce deadpans. “My ancestors are rolling in their graves.”

“You gave them heirs, your job is done,” Clark laughs. In that moment, he is not scared anymore. They have each other. That is all that matters.


	11. Chapter 11

15 weeks

This happens to people all the time, but not to Clark. One moment he is showing the final draft of the new article to Jenny and the next thing he knows, angry red dots are blooming on the white sheet of paper. He has no idea where did they come from until… “Oh, oh God,” she shrieked, “hang on, I have tissues…” He have not got a chance to ask her what did she mean by this. Something wet dripped on his upper lip and when Clark touched it, the answer was right there on the fingertips.

\---

LL: I hear there was something wrong?

LL: are u ok?

CK: I had a nosebleed

LL: seriously?

CK: I called the dr

CK: she said it’s nothing to worry about

CK: expanded blood vessels

CK: and increased blood volume

CK: normal stuff during pregnancy

CK: it was over in a minute

CK: I don’t wanna take a sick leave so pls don’t make a big deal out of this

LL: but it is a big deal

LL: go home

CK: no

CK: I still haven’t told Perry

LL: why?

CK: it’s not the right time

LL: when’s going to be the right time?

CK: just let me handle this

CK: I’m all right

CK: pups are all right too

LL: ok

LL: I’m worried about you

LL: are you sure everything’s ok?

CK: yes

CK: pregnancy is one hell of a ride though

LL: do you miss the life before?

CK: I don’t know Lo

CK: everything’s happening so fast

CK: wanna grab a snack after work?

LL: hot dogs?

CK: greasy, unhealthy, disgusting

CK: I’m gonna eat 6

CK: you know, for the pups

LL: I won’t tell Alfred

LL: but bring more of that kale salad some time

\---

Chamber’s mutilated body was found in the docks of Miami. “No clues on who could've taken him out,” Gordon says, handing a manila folder to Batman. The pictures inside are gruesome to say the least. Looks like they have burned the victim after they were done. “The container with the body came from Kaliningrad. Other than that, nothing. No one ever saw him.”

“Last report?” Batman asks. Commissioner sighs, pulling at his moustache. “Encrypted.”

“I’m gonna have to take a closer look.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Batman takes pictures of the coded message sent through their Russian connection. The alpha inside of him feels alive. His mind is clear and razor sharp. He is ready to hunt. “Wish I could say that it still gets to me,” Gordon says, bitter in the way only very tired people can muster. “I do feel sorry for the poor fella.”

“Sorry won’t bring him back,” he closes the manila folder abruptly. “Don’t beat yourself over, Jim. We’re gonna find them.”

“I sure hope so.” Batman gets ready to leave, eager to work on the code as soon as possible, but commissioner stops him in his tracks: “You’ve been _better_ lately.” Pause. _I’m gonna be a father, Jim. Can you imagine?_ “No, no, I won’t ask,” Gordon waves his hand dismissively, “Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Keep doing it.”

 _And then what? Retire?_ Bruce wonders, alone in the car. He did not expect this day would come. He was… supposed to be dead by now. It took a fallen star to change his destiny. Where does the new road go?

\---

It must have been a tough night for Bruce. The birds are chirping when he gets into the bed, trying his best to do it quietly. “Welcome home,” Clark murmurs, patting him on the cheek. “Sorry for waking you up,” Bruce apologizes. He is wearing nothing but a silky pair of pyjama bottoms and that makes Clark even more awake. They get close under the covers, laying face to face. “How was it?”

“Not good. Don’t wanna talk about it until morning.”

“M’kay. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No, I’m fine.” His gruff voice sends chills through Clark’s entire body. The alpha scent has been almost washed off of him thanks to the antiseptic soap, but the sillage gets stronger in the room temperature. It unwinds gradually on his pulse point. The skin there is prickly because of facial hair, softened with night cream. Delicious. Intoxicating. “Kal,” Bruce whispers, his tone making the name sound almost like a question. Clark looks him deep in the eye and then attacks his mouth. It is a big, open-mouthed kiss that does not leave any room for misunderstandings. He pulls the pants down, smearing precome down his length. Bruce grunts, freeing his lips from Clark’s spell. “You were never like _this_ before pregnancy.”

“Enjoy while you can,” Clark smirks, takes off his shirt and hears the most gentle, defeated moan. Powerful alpha reduced to a whimpering mess by a pair of titties. Typical. He is not going to complain though, not when Bruce sucks on his nipple while probing his entrance. One finger slides in. “Can’t believe how quickly you get wet.” Second finger follows. “You’re so beautiful.” His other hand rests on Clark’s erection. He knows how the omega likes it. “Talk dirty,” Clark pleads, sinking his fingers into the pillow. Bruce moves to lick his ear and then whispers: “I’m gonna knock you up every year so I can have you like this. You’ll forget how it is to be empty. Your tits will always be full of milk. First heat after labor and you’ll be bouncing on my cock, making a baby, begging me to cum inside of you, and I’ll give it to you whenever you want…”

“Oh god,” Clark can feel the blood pumping in his abdomen, tightening that area almost painfully. He flips Bruce on his back and straddles him, taking his cock effortlessly. The orgasm is right there, just a few more moves, a little more effort, he can feel his inner muscles contract expectantly… “Come with me,” he says to Bruce, drunk with lust, “at the same time, come on…” They hold hands as they reach climax. Sometimes Clark is scared that he uses too much strength in the bedroom, but then he is proven once again that Bruce is the one to do so. “What is this…”

“What?” Clark comes down from his high a little lightheaded. Bruce is touching his own chest, grimacing at some spots that should not be there. “Clark, your nose!..”  


	12. Chapter 12

16 weeks

Clark could not stop thinking about their fight for the entire day… which did not go unnoticed at work. The list of his small fuckups seems to evolve into a real problem even though he have not worn the cape for the longest time since he have found the ship in the Arctic. Usually Bruce kept his control freak tendencies in check when it came to their relationship; that was not the case anymore. When Clark revealed the truth about his health issues, the alpha was ready to build a golden cage and keep him there until the labour day. Apparently it was too much to ask for understanding. Clark replays their argument over and over in his head on the way home. Deep down he knows Bruce is right. He is not a typical omega. However the thought of taking the parental leave makes his heart break. He already gave up the cape. All he wants is to keep that one thing for as long as possible. It will end eventually anyway. He is going to miss work so much. More than anything, he just wants to be useful.  

Someone is in the apartment when Clark gets there. He takes a deep breath: Bruce will probably try to convince him again to quit work and move to Gotham. It is not a bad idea but the way it has been presented frustrates Clark to no end. Surely he will not be working until his waters break. The papers from the doctor are signed and sealed in his desk, ready to be delivered to Perry… soon. No need to rush things when he is feeling fine. Because he is _fine._ If only Bruce could see the whole picture from his perspective…

…but that is not Bruce standing in the doorway.

“Ma?” Clark raises his eyebrows. “Hello dear, come on in,” she shepherds him inside. “I got a call from Bruce and I couldn’t stay in place. He sent a jet for me right away. Sweetheart, what’s going on with you? Come on, sit down, I’ve made you some tomato soup, your favorite…” Her love is sweet and wholesome and a bit hysterical. Clark sighs for the hundredth time today, possibly. “Ma, you don’t have to worry,” he says, trying to calm her down. “Nothing happened, really…”

“So you didn’t have a nosebleed?” She inquires. “Well, no, I mean yes I did, but…”

“That never happened before. Not even when you were a baby. I’d remember.” She pours soup into a bowl and serves it with some grilled cheese on the side – Clark’s comfort food. It gets him talking. “How do you feel, baby?”

The tenderness in her voice reminds him of Alfred. The doting grandfather who keeps the ultrasound picture of the pups in his breast pocket. Lois, who checks on him far more frequently than necessary. Bruce… Bruce who must be afraid of losing someone he loves again. Clark swallows the bitter pill – that he is very afraid too. He is not alone though. The people around him deserve an explanation. “Not good, Ma.” With every word his fears become reality. He must embrace them, so he finally admits: “I think there’s something wrong…”

\---

_I can’t believe you brought my mom into this_

_All’s fair. – B_

_Can I call you?_

_I’ll call in the morning. How are you feeling? – B_

_Ok. Miss u a lot_

_See you tomorrow? – B_

_Yeah, come over_

_Ok – B_

\---

Bruce made sure that Ma stayed at the best hotel in Metropolis (“Crystal sinks, Clark! I’m scared to wash my hands!”) so Clark has the afternoon for himself. He gets some work done as he waits for the alpha, hopeful that they will kiss and make up. And then maybe fuck. Could expanded blood vessels be the reason why he feels horny all the time? How is he supposed to ask the doctor about this?...

Clark takes a break to get some snacks from the kitchen. He stops and looks in the mirror, pulling up his t-shirt. By now pups are supposed to be the size of avocados. The belly definitely got more protruding in the last few days. Soon it will be hard to keep up the act. Clark can still conceal it with a blazer but the winter is almost over and the days are getting warmer. He smiles, stroking the taut skin. Actually, it would be nice to stop hiding his happiness, to proudly present to the world that he is expecting not one but two babies. What a miracle. Clark decides to peep at them just a little.

The next minute he dials up Bruce’s number, hands shaking so badly that it is hard to swipe the screen. “Can you hurry up, please? Something’s not right… Just please, hurry up…”

\---

Clark can tell Bruce was running. “What’s wrong?” He demands to know when he storms into the apartment. “Should I call an ambulance?”

“No. Yeah… No. I don’t know.”

“Then what is it?!”

“Stop yelling!” Clark would love to scream until his lungs give out but it would not help anyway. “I can hear you now. I can hear you talking. I heard you walking on the corridor…”

“Clark, tell me what’s going on,” Bruce struggles to keep his cool. “I can hear you now,” Clark chokes back tears, “but I couldn’t hear you from the distance. I… I don’t hear your heartbeat… And I can’t see it. Do you understand?” They both stand there, scared, frozen in shock. “Please, hold me,” Clark pleads out of fear he is going to collapse upon himself. His alpha nearly crushes him in a hug. He smells like wind and expensive cologne. “I don’t know if I can fly,” Clark whispers into his ear. “I float but… I don’t feel the power. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“How long has it been like this?” Bruce asks. “A while. It wasn’t this bad… I just noticed… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to lie to you...”

“It’s okay,” Bruce kisses his cheek. “Are you in pain? Do you feel sick?”

“No,” Clark is starting to calm down. “I feel like I always do. Except when I try to use powers. I noticed when I tried to look at the pups and it just… didn’t...”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Warm smooches touch Clark’s cheeks, forehead, temples. He fights the tears and follows obediently when Bruce guides him to the bed. “Come on, lay down.” It never felt this good to be under someone’s control. The alpha takes off his shoes and coat, then gets on the bed as well. Clark wonders if he can smell the anxiety on him. “Breathe,” Bruce encourages. “Deep breaths. Imagine the air going through your nostrils. You’ll feel better.” Clark clings to him, eyes closed. Nothing will ever be the same. There are more things to come than he predicted. All the plans they have had suddenly seem silly. He can feel himself shaking. “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like some tea?” Under the rough demeanor, Bruce is every inch the boy Alfred has raised. “Sounds good.”

“Do you… want to order some baby stuff online?” He tries so hard to cheer him up, Clark cannot help but laugh through tears. “Yep. I’d love to.”

The night falls over Metropolis. Alpha and omega try to find some peace before attempting to solve the mystery. Between chomping on waffles and arguing if a Fendi blankey is a necessity, Clark realizes the weird fluttering in his stomach was not a result of stress. “Hey… You know what?”

“What is it?” Bruce sounds concerned. “I think I can feel them moving,” Clark smiles. With a sigh of relief, he believes once again that everything is going to be okay.


	13. Chapter 13

 

17 weeks

Today is _the_ day. Four months gone. Pups are about the size of pomegranates. The first thing Perry is going to read this morning is a parental leave form. The Wayne Manor finally goes under construction. Spring breathes new life into the world with fresh air and a bird’s song. Clark is not like his old self anymore.

The only sign of the incredible Kryptonian powers left is the ability to float few inches above the ground. It seems that the solar energy is not enough to sustain three organisms. They have run all the basic tests in the batcave, marking the first time Clark’s blood has been sampled. Sugar levels, red and blood cells count, enzymes, iron, hormones – the things that had to be falsified so many times in his medical history are now a fact. Syringe can break his skin. This is the most human his body has ever been. The realization came hand in hand with anxiety. Vulnerability means threats: it means pain. Diseases. Accidents. Two hearts who suddenly lost a protective barrier.

Bruce tries hard to comfort him in this trying time, walks on eggshells whenever they are spending time together. Sometimes Clark imagines the worst scumbags of Gotham’s underworld and their reaction to the Batman acting like a big, soft, awkward bear: the way he cooks his omega’s favorite soup with Ma on the phone and how lost he looks when he has no idea how to make things better. Clark hides in his embrace. He might be weaker but the twins are flourishing; doctor Pérez was very pleased with their growth during the last check. They are alright. In the end, that is all that matters.

Clark lies on his back wide awake, with Bruce cuddled under his armpit: blissfully asleep, his left hand resting on the baby bump. Protective but also in need of protection. With Clark’s powers gone, who is going to provide it for him? Are they really equal now? Just two people starting a family? Will it be like that for the rest of their days? Clark sighs deeply, checking the time. Today the whole office is going to discover the secret. He does not understand why it upsets him so much. Bruce grunts suddenly. “Sleep,” Clark whispers and tucks stray hair behind his ear, “it’s still early.”

“ _Mhmm,_ ” the alpha mumbles sleepily. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” The sun lightens the bedroom with warm beams; Clark does not feel them the way he used to. He would like to have a look at what the pups are up to but that ability is gone as well. Today everything is going to change. That is just one more step in the series of changes.

\---

Perry arrived in the office earlier than Clark anticipated. Matter of fact, it looks like he did not leave it for the weekend at all.  “What is it, Kent?” _So this isn’t going to go as smoothly as I hoped…_ “Hey… Nothing.”

“Then why you’re here?” Perry attacks him out of the blue. Clearly, he is in a bad mood and this is not the right time. “I just need to, uh, give you this,” Clark handles over the papers and waits for whatever comes next. “Another health leave? Pull yourself together, Smallville. Back in my day we worked until…” Chief examines the documents silently. Clark can feel himself sweating. Why on Earth is he acting like this? It is not like he is doing something _bad._ “You?” Powers or powerless, Perry’s stare could pierce two holes in Clark’s head if he only put his mind into it. Clark nods energetically. _“You_ are pregnant?”

“Well, yeah, uhmm…” Words are not cooperating with Clark, so he just puts his hand under the bump and pulls at his shirt; the tightened material exposes the truth about his current state. “How long?” Perry asks.

“Four months and one week.”

“Four months?”

“Correct.”

“With twins?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re an omega.”

“That’s… Quite obvious, I believe.”  He does not know what to make out of this reaction. “Have you been to the HR?” Perry gets back on track after the initial shock.

“No, not yet. I wanted to let you know first.”

“When do you wanna leave?”

“I… I hope to work as long as I can. Unless the doctor says otherwise, of course.”

“Right.” Perry looks at him thoughtfully. Does not even blink. Then he puts his signature on the form, saying: “I have to give you the special treatment now. The law says so. Your job is about to get easier, Smallville. Maybe even boring.”

“I just want to do as much as I can until they take over completely,” Clark smiles, patting his bump and trying to comfort himself. There is something odd going on in here. “Good. Go to the HR immediately.” He does not seem to be interested in continuing the conversation, so Clark gets ready to leave. “And oh, congratulations,” Perry says. There is something _dismissive_ in his tone that makes Clark’s composure crack: “Is there anything else you wanna tell me? I don’t know, maybe something about omegas in workspaces?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Kent, we’re not living in the fifties anymore.”

“Then why are you acting like I’ve, I don’t know… failed you? Don’t try to deflect. Answer me.” The anger has been waiting quite a while to be unleashed. Good thing it hit on a person who can take it. “I wanna make this clear: it has nothing to do with your caste,” Perry speaks in his usual manner. “What can I say…” He sighs and takes off his glasses. “Color me surprised. Turns out I was wrong about you the whole time. Of all the people in this building, you’re the last person I’d ever suspect of bringing me news like that. Feels like I’m losing my mojo, if you know what I mean.” Perry does not… He _cannot_ know the truth, but he always had his suspicions. Clark could feel it whenever chief’s gaze lasted on him for few seconds longer than necessary. Frankly, he was prepared to be exposed by Perry one day. Lois warned him more than once to never underestimate the old stager. “I’m not different from anybody in this place, Perry.” That is not even a lie. “So I see. Congratulations. I mean this.”

“Thanks, Perry,” Clark’s hand is on the doorknob when he hears: “Make sure to put your mate’s name on the guest list.”

“What?” He is dumbfounded. “If you want them to attend the ceremony, you have to tell Maureen. She’s the unofficial manager.”  _Oh._ Perry is about to receive the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Newspaper Guild of Metropolis. The gala will take place at the Museum of Fine Arts impressive ballroom. Clark has completely forgotten about it. “Sure”, he squeaks, “we’ll be there.”

“Just tell Maureen,” Perry has something else on his mind already.

\---

Spreading news is the basis of the Daily Planet’s natural environment. Clark should not be surprised that it took only about an hour before everyone and their mama’s new the reason behind his visit to the HR office. “And here I was wondering what kind of BB cream do you use,” Jenny cornered him after the lunchtime. “Your skin is so dewy!”

“Never felt prettier,” Clark smirked. It was just the beginning: he received dozens of compliments on his looks that were surpassed only by the amount of time he heard loud “aaawww!” when presenting his belly. Sweet words were mixed with questions.

“How far gone are you?”

“Do you know their gender?”

“When’s your due date?”

“I didn’t know you had a mate, when will I meet them?”

“I’ve no idea,” Clark struggles to sound casual, “he’s not really a people person, you know? Very shy, likes to work alone, you know how it goes…”

“Hey, have you guys heard?!” The conversation is interrupted by James yelling from the other side of the room. “Someone saw Superman!” That takes the heat off of Clark for the rest of the day. The scoop is fake: it was fabricated by Bruce specifically to go viral along with the news of Clark’s pregnancy. It should bring him peace but somehow Clark feels even worse than he did in the morning. “Are you gonna bring your mate to the ceremony?” Jenny asks when they walk to the elevator together. “I honestly don’t know.” _Not a chance._ “He doesn’t like crowds.”

“Sounds like you two are a good match,” Jenny beams up. “I’m really happy for you, Clark.”

“Thank you,” if only happiness was that easy.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

18 weeks

 

LL: how are you?

CK: ok

CK: everything went better than expected

LL: I’m glad

CK: when are u coming back?

LL: don’t know       

LL: before Perry’s award I hope

CK: fingers crossed

CK: are u ok?

LL: fine

LL: I could sleep more though

CK: I know that feeling

LL: you have insomnia?

CK: I don’t even know

CK: it’s so weird Lo

CK: I’m so different

LL: the powers?

CK: yeah

CK: I’m not sure who I am anymore

LL: you’re YOU

LL: still the same

CK: I wish it was like that

LL: I believe in you

LL: I always did

CK: miss u

LL: miss you too

LL: lunch is on me when I get back

CK: <3

\---

Last night’s interrogation did not bring any new clues. Bruce did everything he could to make the suspect talk before his gang found them. Today, the slightly bruised knuckles are a stark contrast to manicured nails. (“Got little carried away at kickboxing session. You should see the other guy!”)

Father is looking at him from the portrait in the boardroom. Always watching. Mute. One bullet wiped his entire wisdom from the surface of the Earth. Bruce can only look for a word of advice in his painted, flat eyes, knowing that both mother and father will remain silent for eternity. Bullets. Bad luck. That is all it takes. Without the cruel twist of fate, Bruce would be lying right there with them on the pavement. The glory of the Waynes is just another paper empire. History has written volumes about their ultimate fate. For a second he imagines his own portrait on the wall, quietly judging everything around him but never able to open his mouth and voice an opinion. Something ugly turns his stomach.

Two pups are going to enter this world pretty soon. A day will come when they will have only each other. Is it going to happen years from now on? What if it is going to be much too soon? Bruce should stay away from the cape and the cowl, but he truly, deeply, physically cannot. It is unfair to pups and to Clark. Poor Clark who has to learn what it means to live all over again. One day Bruce is going to leave them, he can feel it in his bones. How will they survive? What is his legacy apart from fighting the hopeless battle? He feels torn. The solution seems simple. Lovely in its practicality. Too much. Too hard. The only one there is. Bruce takes a deep breath, asking: “Grace, schedule a meeting for me with the legal team, will you?”

“Right away, mister Wayne,” the secretary taps something on her smartphone. “What kind of matter would you like to discuss?”

“Inheritance.”

\---

Days are getting longer. It is still bright outside when Clark arrives at the lake house. One of the glass walls has been almost completely covered with holograms of the renovated Wayne mansion. Construction manager promised that it would be ready before the end of June. “Hi, handsome,” Clark walks up to Bruce who is sitting by the dinner table. There is a stash of folders piling up in front of him; the Wayne emblem gleams proudly in the light of the sunset. “You look beaten-up. Rough night?”

“Long day.” Bruce pulls him closer and embraces his middle. Two gentle kisses land on the baby bump. “What, I don’t get a kiss?” Clark pouts. Bruce rolls his eyes at him. The following hot, wet smooch causes Clark’s right heel to go upwards. Definitely _not_ a parental peck on the cheek. “Much better.” Good thing that his voice is not shaking. “How was your day?” Bruce asks. “It was alright. Oh, I really, really wanted to take a nap around three. That’s new.”

“It’s what happens when you don’t sleep at night. Go to bed early.”

“Please, you of all people shouldn’t school me on healthy sleeping habits.”

“I guess not,” Bruce smirks. There is something sad in his eyes that Clark have not solved yet. “Are you feeling well now?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Clark takes off his jacket. “Just hungry. Did Alfred make anything for supper?”

“Yes, but… I’d like to talk to you about something before we eat.” The alpha sounds serious. Clark thinks he must have misheard. “Sorry, what?”

“Please, sit down.” Bruce has trouble looking him in the eyes. So he really wants to _talk_. And he actually initiated the conversation. A serious one on top of that. _Maybe I walked into a parallel universe when I got lost in the mall today,_ Clark takes a seat with all kinds of wild thoughts running through his head. “Honey, is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Bruce holds Clark’s hand in his, eyes pinned to the floor. “I talked to my lawyers today. I’ve told them about pups. It’s now their best kept secret, don’t worry,” he assures, noticing Clark’s growing tension. “I had to do it sooner or later. We have reached an agreement… No, not really. We don’t agree on everything. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to formally rewrite my last will in the next week or two.” The omega stops breathing for a second. Mortality, such a terrible flaw. “Before we do that… I have to decide what I want to include in it. This is the part where I need you.”

“Okay. I’m listening,” Clark gulps. “You see... ” Bruce looks out through the glass wall. Outside the wind shakes the fresh leaf buds. He does not seem to notice anyway. “The plan was that in case of my death, the board of directors would keep control over the company until pups turn twenty-one. Then they’d slowly assert their leadership and fully reclaim their CEO status in a five-year span. It’s not a bad plan. It’s also not the best one.” He is not sure how to continue. “It relies heavily on the kindness of the board members. That’s what happened to me. I got lucky. I’m afraid pups will have to deal with a different kind of people. More greedy... and vicious. There are ways to take everything my family has built from the rightful heirs. The scary part is that some of them are legal. Sometimes even very reasonable. It’s all about pulling the right strings.”

“I understand,” Clark nods, trying to figure out where this is going. “That’s why we came to the conclusion that…” Bruce clears his throat. “The best way to secure their position at Wayne Enterprises is to elect a president who’ll keep an eye on the board’s doings while they’re still in school. Someone who’ll protect their interests… And ensure that they’re not overlooked. Someone who cares about them and my legacy. Who won’t be easily swayed by money or influences. It would be the best if that person was my lifemate. Carrying my name.”

Babies are making somersaults in the womb. This is the only thing reminding Clark that he did not just die.

It would be a lie to say that he never thought about it. Naturally, he wondered. Maybe even hoped a little for this to happen. But he felt that marriage was off the table. Bruce would have to be the one to put it there because Clark did not have the nerve to ask; not with billions of dollars separating them. Their relationship could be described as progressive to say at least. However, Clark was always very careful – he tried hard to act like an individual who is not interested in his mate’s wealth, even with two pups on the way. Well, it was not really an _act_ – he genuinely cared more for their shared secrets than the numbers on Bruce’s bank account. Things may change if it is about to become _his_ bank account too. “That seems… like a good decision,” he says with dry mouth.

“I know I’m asking a lot.” Bruce kisses the inside of his palm. “I don’t expect you to answer right away. Take your time. Here’s basically everything you need to know,” he points to the files on the table. “Go through them slowly and don’t be afraid to ask if something’s not clear. I’m here to discuss everything with you. If it’s too much, I won’t hold it against you. I promise. We’re gonna find another way.” And then, completely unfazed, he asks: “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah. White, green? Black isn’t recommended for pregnant bearers.” Looks like Alfred’s lessons are more important than Clark ever imagined. “Green would be nice.”

“Coming right up. You want a snack too?” Clark just nods, overwhelmed. He picks up the first folder from the pile with shaky hands. Words make little sense right now. Nothing can recover him from the shock that Bruce wants to get married. It is the best for the children and for the Wayne family. Now Clark has to decide if it is the best for him. Shy farmer from Kansas, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Formerly known as Superman. Powers… Will they ever come back? Is this how he is going to feel for the rest of their lives? _I need to get a degree in business or management._ _Dear Lord, anything that could prepare me for this thing. I’d have to quit journalism… Holy crap, what am I getting myself into?_ Bruce leaves the tray silently. “I’m gonna take a bath,” he says.  

“Okay,” Clark whispers. He always wanted to get married and have a family. Being married to Bruce Wayne comes with a price. Responsibilities. Loss of anonymity. Dangers. Being someone new. That process is in progress already: who knows what waits at the end of it. Clark briefly thinks about calling his mother but decides against it. No need to get her excited about the engagement if they are not...

Something clicks in his mind. _Bruce proposed. We are engaged… right?_ Suddenly a hot flush washes over him. It was not romantic but it was serious. In case of Bruce - straight from the heart. He gave Clark some room to breathe before saying “yes”, not fully realizing that it was the only possible answer. The company, taxes, inheritance – everything fades compared to the fact that they love each other. Clark’s heart is beating like a thousand drums. He has time to think… He does not need to though. His heart already knows. If they have to become one, well, that is all he ever wanted.

Bruce does not hide his shock when Clark walks abruptly into the bathroom. “If you have questions I’ll be out in a minute… Clark!” Water splashes on the tiles. It is only natural to go down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” Finally. Now it feels right. “Clark, what are you…”

“I’m asking you to marry me.” He takes Bruce’s hand, looking at him with the biggest smile ever. The water is getting cold and the wet clothes cling to his body but he does not mind. “You were suppose to think about it!” Bruce frowns. “I love you,” Clark says easily, lightly, just the way it is supposed to be said. “I’ll do everything to make you happy. And I know you’ll do the same for me. So what the hell are we waiting for?”

“Clark, be rational...”

“My answer is yes, Bruce. What is yours?” The alpha lets out an exasperated sigh. “I should see it coming.” Clark is laughing inside. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Let’s get married,” Bruce says quietly. It is hard to distinguish who first went in for a kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

19-21 weeks

By popular custom, engagement rings were usually more colorful than the wedding bands: birthstones were back in fashion, at least according to the clerk at the jewelry store Clark has visited. He wondered briefly if Bruce would like to wear a ring with their birthstones entwined… Probably not. “Too… out there”, he said to the man behind the counter who did not even bat an eye. He suggested tinted metals instead. Smooth, slim band made of dark grey titanium stood out the most. It was a no-brainer.

Clark have put a lot of thought into reenacting their engagement in a more romantic set up. Making beautiful memories was important to him. On a clear Sunday night when Gotham was calm and so was Bruce by extension, he brought him to the empty Wayne Manor. The proud building was returning to its former glory like eagle recovering from wound. Inside was lit with dozens of white candles (it took forever to light them up without super speed). Bruce wandered around his childhood home until he has found Clark in the living room, his excited expression brighter than the flames. That is when the question was asked once again. They kissed. It felt like magic.

But Bruce did not wear the ring, nor did he buy one for Clark.

\---

LL: you should tell him

CK: I’d feel stupid

CK: you shouldn’t ask for an engagement ring

LL: I agree

LL: but you should say how you feel

CK: I literally don’t know how??

CK: he’s already paying for everything

CK: did I mention Alfred gave me a platinum credit card?

LL: no

CK: well he did

CK: just like that

CK: one morning before breakfast

CK: like it’s normal

CK: and it is normal because my fiancée is fucking loaded

CK: which scares me

CK: I’m going to move into this beautiful house with golden doorknobs and I’d prefer a ring

CK: and you know for him to actually fucking ASK

LL: maybe he feels he doesn’t need to since you did it already

LL: he seems like a modern guy

CK: ok you’re right

CK: still

CK: I don’t want to ask him for that kind of stuff

CK: I want him to WANT this stuff

CK: is it really that awful and outdated to expect a romantic proposal?...

LL: no but you had that

LL: you prepared it

LL: what’s really going on Clark?

LL: this talk about ring and theatre around proposal feels like a smoke screen

LL: did something happen?

CK: no

CK: apart from Bruce not wearing the ring I gave him

LL: that’s odd

LL: I’d be angry too

CK: I’m not angry with him

CK: it’s just

CK: I’m not sure how he wants to handle us

CK: in the public eye

CK: I know he suggested the changes in will

CK: but everything is so hush hush

CK: no one in the firm knows about us

CK: ok his lawyers do know but that’s it

CK: I don’t wanna be his dirty secret forever

CK: like Rochester’s wife in the attic

CK: he isn’t wearing the ring because he doesn’t want people to know

LL: this might be the case

LL: if anyone knows how to live a double life it’s him

LL: you know what I’m going to say right?

CK: yeah

CK: talk to your alpha

LL: bull’s eye!

LL: your problems have one simple solution

CK: it’s not that simple

LL: why?

CK: because he is a billionaire who could have anyone in the world and I’m just a poor bastard from Kansas who gets everything and still demands more like a greedy whore ;_________;

LL: calm down

LL: are hormones doing the talking?

CK: yes

CK: I’m crying to my waffles as we speak

LL: relax dummy

LL: you’re not a greedy whore

LL: it’s around midnight in Metropolis right?

CK: yeah

LL: so don’t stuff yourself with sugar

LL: get some chamomile and go to sleep

LL: tomorrow will be better just don’t work yourself up to the point when you’re this upset

LL: all right?

CK: there’s something else

LL: I was worried you’d say that

CK: it’s a delicate matter

LL: sex life?

CK: you’re a mind reader is2g

LL: it has been known for a while now

CK: the thing is

CK: there’s none

CK: we didn’t sleep together since I lost you know what

CK: at first I was you know

CK: too scared I think

CK: my body feels foreign

CK: but I initiated something a few times and he just doesn’t follow

CK: says he has work to do

CK: once or twice he said he’s too tired

CK: ok he has every right to be tired

CK: I understand that  

CK: but it makes me feel even more insecure because we used to do it often

LL: that’s enough details

LL: is it because of the pregnancy?

CK: sorry

CK: I don’t know

LL: confront him

LL: you’re about to share a life

LL: a lot of money too

LL: conversation about feelings and expectations should be a regular thing

CK: how does it feel to be always right?

LL: exhausting but someone has to do it

CK: how are you doing?

LL: Mombasa is exciting

LL: can’t tell you much rn

LL: this line isn’t safe

CK: I hope you’ll come back soon

CK: it’s a lonely town when you’re not around

LL: which country song is this from

CK: it’s straight from my heart Lo

LL: you better keep some of those waffles for me

CK: organic strawberries, certified fair trade honey from god knows where and a whole can of whip

CK: but it’s for the babies

LL: everything for the babies

\---

Radio host tells a story of how he looked Batman in the eye after he stumbled from the bar in the middle of the night to take a piss. “Is it true?” Clark asks from the passenger seat, both hands resting on his belly. He takes weird satisfaction in how the seat belt forms around it. “Don’t remember,” Bruce answers flatly. So much for chit-chat. If it was not for the radio, drive to the doctor would pass in silence. After the visit they will go to a restaurant – very posh and far, far away from the public eye. They have been there before; the manager always offers Bruce his full discretion. “Are you going out tonight?” It is not exactly the question Clark wants to ask. “Only if there’s an emergency.” Rain drizzles on the front window. Somehow Gotham is never completely dry. Rainy, uninviting city that is going to be Clark’s new home. If his powers do not come back he will be stuck here for good. Obedient omega waiting for his alpha in their beautiful house with pups running around. In this vision there is a third one feeding on his breast. They always wanted a big family. Omega’s duties fulfilled. “Are you all right?” Bruce puts his hand on Clark’s knee. His big, warm hand with no engagement ring. “Yeah. It’s just the weather wearing me down.” Lately Bruce got better at recognizing Clark’s moods. His scent probably shows his agitation. “Summer will be here sooner than you think.” He smirks, so Clark smirks too. Wayne Memorial is even more quiet than the inside of the car. “Come in!” Doctor Peréz is all smiles. “Have you decided if you want to know their sex?”

“Yes!” Clark says, comforted by the good vibes she is bringing. “We do want to know.” Bruce only nods in agreement. Without much further ado Clark gets on the chair. He will never get used to the cold gel or to anything cold in general. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if he was right all along that he carries a boy. In his mind they are both boys although he did not say it to anyone. He thinks it would make Bruce happy. Even though he wished for a girl, he often imagined two boys who resembled Jor El. Sadly, he will never know if they look anything like his mother. Maybe he saw them in a dream – since the second trimester started, he has been dreaming more vividly than ever before.

 The sound of tiny heartbeat resonates in the room. Clark missed it more than flying, more than anything really. Krypton is still alive. “Oh, they’re wonderful,” doctor Peréz coos. “Absolutely gorgeous. They’re on the smaller side of the scale but that doesn’t concern me. Get used to the fact they’re going to be petite.”

“That’s okay.” Clark grins at the screen showing two tiny bodies inside of him. Miracle. Bruce is transfixed too. Thanks to the years of self-control he can hide how he feels but that works only on strangers: Clark sees that his alpha is melting. _I love you. I love that you’re here. I love that you love them already. I love that you love me. I know you care so much and I have no idea why I was so caught up on a stupid ring._ “It’s a girl!” The doctor announces. Bruce holds his hand really hard. “Really?”

“Without a doubt. Congratulations!” Clark laughs breathlessly. “Is it bad if I say this is what I was hoping for?”

“Not at all. Most parents have their preferences. Now if only I could catch the other one at better angle…”

“We’re having a baby girl,” Clark says to Bruce and does not mind that he remains silent. He is not good with words but his face tells everything. “And your baby girl is going to have a brother!” Doctor Peréz points to a tiny spot on the screen. “Here’s the proof if anyone asks. Congratulations once again!”

“Wow.” It should be a great moment, an epic moment, yet that is the only thing Clark is able to say out loud. It is still much more than what Bruce is capable of right now.

\---

“Chloe.”

“Too cutesy.”

“Reese.”

“…No.”

“Noel.”

“Christmas name, Bruce? I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I like short names,” Bruce shrugs. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Boy or girl?”

“Anything goes.”

“I don’t know. There’s too much to choose from. I always liked Tristan.”

“Sadness. You want our son to be named _sadness.”_

“You asked for ideas!” Clark giggles. Heavenly joy washed over him. _Our son. And our daughter._ Everything is all right. So, so perfect. Innocent question surely will not burst their happy bubble. “Bruce?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want us to go public?”

“Public as in letting everyone know I’m married? Yes. I don’t see any other way.” He speaks calmly. Seems like he played out that conversation inside his head already. “I didn’t plan on introducing your real name. You can stay out of the picture as long as I’m alive or even longer if you want to. There are ways to buy silence. I can cover it up as progressing paranoia of a rich, old asshole. What do you say?” Clark’s happiness apparently made him forget what fear is because his reply is blunt: “I don’t want to be out of the picture. I want people to know who I am. I… I’ve lived long enough trying to hide the truth. It’d be nice to be myself. With you beside me.” Bruce lets out a long sigh. “When you’re showing your face like that it’s not the truth. People don’t know you. They invent you. Whatever you give them, they’ll take it however they want to. It’s never really you that they see.”

“I know,” Clark chimes in, “I know what you’re trying to say. I’ve had my fair share of being misunderstood by the public opinion. But… If my powers don’t come back…”

“They’ll come back, it’s the side effect…”

“But if they don’t come back I don’t want to live like a princess in a tower. That’s not what marriage is. If we want to have a life together, to build something, I have to be with you. I want to be with you.” He bites his lower lip nervously. “If someone recognizes me, we can play it off as a joke. I can roll with it. I did it a few times already, you know? At work or when I was interviewing people. If we don’t take this seriously, no one else will. I’m ready.”  

“I thought you didn’t want to be seen with me.” Clark is confused and terrified that he has caused pain without even knowing. “Why would you think that?”

“You didn’t invite me to the Newspaper Guild of Metropolis event,” Bruce looks as puzzled as Clark feels. “I saw the invitation. Besides, you didn’t introduce me to anyone except Lois. And your mother of course. From my perspective, in the eyes of your peers you’re going to be a single parent. We rarely even go out when I’m in Metropolis. I just thought you’d prefer to keep our relationship a secret. I understand that.” If there is any picture under the definition of “dumb” in the dictionary, Clark feels like it should be his portrait. “Is that why you’re not wearing the ring?”

“I wanted to avoid questions,” Bruce pats his breast pocket, “but I always have it with me you know.”

“I’m… I’m so, so sorry.” Clark laughs at Bruce’s concerned face. It should be obvious they both have a say in this; they are _equals_ after all. And even rich, powerful, handsome men can feel insecure sometimes. “I’d like to formally invite you to the gala. I want everyone to know what a lucky bastard I am.” Bruce nods just once. “Okay. We can arrange everything.” Stoic no matter what. “I really love you,” Clark could cry a river right now. Darn hormones. “I love you too. Now, if you could please blindfold yourself with this and don’t ask any questions for the next few minutes that’d be swell.” Bruce holds a black velvet scarf in his hand.

“What? What.”

“I told you, no questions.” Bruce grins like he is very pleased with himself. “It’s a surprise if you haven’t figured it out already.”

“We’re not going to grab a dinner?” The weight of alpha’s stare makes him go: “All right, all right, no questions. Fine. I’ll keep quiet.” He wraps the soft material around his eyes when his playful side provides with him with an idea. “Just one question, please?”

“One.”

“Is it a dirty surprise?”

 _“No._ Behave yourself, we’re almost there.”

It took a while before they parked. Clark quickly lost track. He did not know Gotham very well, yet it felt like Bruce was taking weird shortcuts to confuse him even further. “Take my hand,” he says and opens the door for Clark. Being unable to see and relying on the alpha is more exciting than he would imagine. Bruce takes him by the hand. “Now you have to trust me. There are stairs ahead of us. Just walk slowly, okay?”

“I’m following your lead, my love.” Clark takes every step carefully. They are on a street that has to be in the city center or very near the area. The traffic is quite busy. People are chatting on the street, walking in directions only they know. “Come on now, one step at a time,” Bruce encourages. It must be one of the older buildings, maybe the ones built by Dutch colonizers. Clark reaches out to keep balance. His hand does not touch anything. It is empty, dark and quiet. Suddenly they walk into an elevator. So maybe it is not an old building after all. “Just for your information, I’m gonna get my revenge for this.” Clark tries to get a hold of where the hell is he, excited but a little panicked at the same time. “I know you will.” Bruce’s voice is completely monotone. “I’m serious,” Clark continues when they stop at the second floor… or is it the third? “I’ll leave you in the middle of the most difficult corn maze in Kansas.”

“That sounds fun actually.” They walk through long corridors until the plush carpet turns into shiny wooden panels. “Are we there yet?” Clark is shaking because _he cannot fucking wait._ “That was a question.”

“It’s not for me. Pups want to know.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious. They wanna know when’s dinner time.”

“Stop right there. Don’t move for a bit.”

“I knew it. You’re gonna leave me here waiting like a fool while you flee the country and…”

Bruce peels away the scarf in one swift motion. In the very same moment the room becomes bright, so blinding Clark sees sparkles. Second by second, the shapes take form in the sea of white. Incredible crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Vintage mouldings. He gasps when he realizes they are not alone. There is a tall man and two women looking at him with generosity. They are wearing smart, elegant clothes that reflect beautifully in the long glass cabinets. Cabinets full of fine jewelry. Bruce’s hand rests on the small of his back. “Let’s pick you a nice ring, shall we?”

 


	16. Chapter 16

22 weeks

It took a little over five months but Clark can finally say that pregnancy is awesome. His belly has the perfect shape, he is engaged to his mate, he feels great and it seems that the world feels great with him. He has nothing to hide. People coo at him at work and even on the street. They give up seats on the subway and let him cut the line at the grocery store. Vendors often offer him free food: he was sure to score a free bagel every time he passed the cart on the way to the Daily Planet. The owner did not even want to hear about money. Clark has also become a hand magnet thanks to an old superstition: touching pregnant omega’s belly was suppose to bring good luck for the next nine days. (Although with twins it should be eighteen days, at least that is what he always says.)

One afternoon he heard a shout behind his back: “You there! The pregnant one!” A college girl ran towards him, ignoring the traffic. She looked like she have not had enough sleep in like a year. “I’m sorry sir but I really have to touch your belly. Today is my last final and I gotta ace it so I can be free.”  

“I got you,” Clark offered and spread his arms invitingly, amused by her hysterical energy. “What’s your major?” He asked as she gently put both hands on his belly. “Horrible, horrible things.” She thanked him, bowed down and ran in the opposite direction to catch the bus.

Other time he was writing a piece about the modernization of the Metropolis stadium – one of the easy jobs Perry has assigned him. Football players were on their way home from the practice when Clark got there; one of them very politely, almost shyly asked him for permission to touch the belly. He said that he was trying for pups with his wife – some extra luck could not hurt.

Yesterday he visited the Museum of Art History where a beautiful woman could not stop staring at him. She apologized when Clark caught her gaze. “It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want to touch it?” The woman’s eyes were sparkling with reverence. “It’s kicking!” She giggled. Something about her told Clark she needed that laughter to heal. They chatted for a while. The woman confessed that she was looking for stolen art which could explain why she seemed so blue.

Wherever he went, he put a smile on everyone’s faces. The feeling was bittersweet – it made him crave for the cape and the ability to actually do something for the world. But it was nice to make someone’s day brighter simply by existing. Bruce did not like the attention Clark was getting – he even suggested, with Alfred’s quiet support, that he should go on his parental leave immediately. However Clark was not having it.

“I’ll go mad if I stay at home all day,” he tells Jenny as they walk through the mall; he just got a pretty sweet discount at the baby boutique simply for being cute. “It’s nothing dangerous if I feel fine, right?”

“Yeah, he can’t stop you from going to work,” she agrees. “I mean, we live in two thousands. Is he acting that way because of your age difference?”

“I don’t think so. He’s just a control freak.” This is new – talking about Bruce with a friend from work who is not Lois. “I was dating a guy older than me in college,” she says. “My professor’s TA.”

“Oh. I’d never guess.”

“Eh, it wasn’t that exciting. He was sooo jealous whenever I went out with my friends. I asked him multiple times if he wants to hang out with us but he preferred to stay at home. That was just a tip of the iceberg though.”

“So what was the final straw?”

“Pissing kink.” Clark chokes on his kale smoothie. “Yeah, we just weren’t meant to be,” Jenny shrugs. “I hope you’re more compatible with your mate.” Clark is not about to get himself into a conversation about kinks, so he just smiles at her. “I really can’t wait to meet him! Can you show me some pictures?”

“He doesn’t really like taking pictures.” Clark says evasively. All he can think of are dozens of magazines covers Bruce has graced over the years. “Oh come on, you have to have something. I’m gonna meet him anyway at the party!” That is true: they already went through some talks with Bruce’s publicists. They have concluded that it would be a nice gesture to give Perry a heads up on what will happen during his big night. Clark took the delivery of the news upon himself – it would not feel right to just set up a PR meeting with Perry of all people. Unfortunately, he feels terribly anxious about the whole thing. Perhaps opening up to Jenny could be a good practice. “You’re right.” He sighs and looks around. There is a small island with comfy couches nearby. “Can we take a seat? My feet are killing me.”

“Sure!” They make themselves comfortable. Clark browses his phone; he was not really lying when he said Bruce does not like taking pictures – there is not much to choose from. Finally he finds the one taken by Ma during Christmas: in the picture they pose together in front of the tree. Bruce hugs him from behind, their joined hands folded neatly on Clark’s belly. This should work. “Just promise me one thing,” he asks Jenny, his throat a little tight. “Promise what?”

“That you’re going to believe me without asking any redundant questions.”

“Okay?...” Now she looks worried. Clark takes a deep breath and hands her the phone. “Oh, he reminds me of someone!” Jenny smiles until it becomes clear who that _someone_ is. She turns to Clark, then to the screen again. Her eyes are very big and very round. “No,” she whispers. “I’m afraid it’s a yes.” He has no idea where to go from here since Jenny is clinging to his phone but then she suddenly, loudly, profusely expresses her surprise: “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” Mother of two walking by gives them a dirty look. Clark can feel a headache incoming. Something tells him it is going to torment him for a very long time.


End file.
